Nothing is Truly Planned
by Hollywoodx4
Summary: At the beginning of third year, Abigail is still struggling with Sammy's death. Now, with the company on her heels for a contract, Abigail must face yet another twist life has thrown at her. Rated T for later content
1. Chapter 1

They say that your mind does strange, indescribable things when you're worked up about something. They say that you live through yourself; through strange things that only you are able to see. They say that you see things in the way you wish to perceive them; that your mind is so _desperate _for something that it can make things up, change them into something they're not.

She didn't believe in any of that bullshit.

It was late. As she passed by rows of white doors they were all closed, not a single yellow hue of light shining through the crack at their bottoms. She tugged on her bag and made sure it was fit snug around her shoulder, moving to her toes to limit the noise she would make.

Campus was just as quiet, the walk to the studio almost peaceful. She was not in a state of peace, however; drowsy and restless and looking for a way to escape reality. For Abigail, of course, that way was ballet.

The song popped into her head long before she entered the studio, wide-eyed and anxious of getting caught after curfew, even if it was for practice. She began to dance to it, to feel the rhythm and its simplicity. As Abigail danced, she seemed to disappear into a world of her own, drifting back to a time where the simple classical tune had been most important to her.

"_Ouch, Sammy!" The brunette cried. Her companion looked down guiltily, almost in shock of his own accidental actions._

"_Sorry, sorry. I'll be more careful next time!" The entirety of the class was looking at them now, and Abigail huffed, brushing her leotard off and getting back into position. She felt Sammy's arms on her waist again, and something else she couldn't quite place. Shaking her head she shrugged it off, putting back her own cold demeanor._

"_I'd hope so, Lieberman. And watch your clammy hands as well!"_

Back to position. Her hands were up, one stretched to her side as if it were being held. She danced alone, in front of the mirror of the dimly lit studio. She danced for herself, for her grief and her life. For the first time in a long time, Abigail danced for herself. Herself, and Sammy Lieberman.

"_That's better, you just need to go higher on the lift." Sammy nodded, taking her advice into serious account and bending to try it again. She felt his hands on her hips again and bent with him, and suddenly she was in the air, Sammy supporting her full on. When he let her down she smiled at him, a goofy sort of grin, and moved to embrace him._

_It was nice to have someone who truly listened to her._

It was a strange sensation, dancing pas de deux alone; using moves they had learned in first year, things she hadn't had to use again as of late. She watched in the mirror as she completed her turn. This time, however, her eyes were not on her focal point. She was letting herself _feel, _not caring about technique and turns, about anything but the moment she was in.

She extended her arm again, and that's when she felt it.

It was faint, barely there at first. It was a sensation she had never felt, but one that was so familiar to her. Her hand curled, and stopped when she felt something in it. Whispers of feeling crept against her body, and then the faint pressure moved from her hand to both sides of her hips. She knew.

Sammy was with her.

For the first time, she let him lead. She felt him circle around her, support her as she moved to pointe. She felt him everywhere, his hand tight against hers. It was the soundtrack of their first year, of the times they had countlessly danced around each other, neither wanting to make a move. She turned again, completing the exercise.

In the late night, with the moon illuminating the dimly lit room, Abigail felt Sammy linger, felt his need to stay with her. It was as if he were trying to tell her something important, but could not get a hold of her. One last brush against her, a chill that ran along her spine, and he was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

It had been a long day for all of the dancers at the academy. The company was already sending their list of dancers they've chosen to keep a closer eye on; the dancers that were closest to the coveted places in the company at that point. Pressure was high, and third year dancers who had gotten letters were flaunting them to their friends, unable to contain their excitement.

All, that is, except for Kat Karamakov. She received her letter and promptly shoved it into her dance bag, looking away from the envious glares she knew she was receiving. This attention was unwanted, unneeded to the girl whose mother had been pushing her to achieve it her entire life. As soon as class was dismissed she made sure she was one of the first out of the room, the others too busy congratulating those who had been slipped their letters throughout the day to notice the blonde's disappearance. By the time she was at her place in the locker room, her tutu was already half way off, stored haphazardly in her locker. It disgusted her at this point, during this moment where it seemed that her mother was getting everything she wanted in regards to Kat's future. She sighed, taking her other clothes to the bathroom stall by routine, but it was then that she noticed that she was not the only one out of class.

It was a quiet sound, muffled at first. She could see a pair of feet in white ballet flats in her usual stall, where somebody was sitting on the floor. From what she could see, Kat guessed that the girl was distressed. Glancing at the space underneath the stall, she could also see a white envelope torn open and left on the tile floor, the company's logo printed neatly at the top of crisp white paper. She knocked on the stall lightly.

"Hello? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." The voice was cold, harsh; it was familiar.

"Abigail?"

"Haven't you seen enough of me today? Can't you just leave me alone?" Her voice was cracking now, and it became muffled as she heard her brunette ex-best friend rip a bit of toilet paper to dry her eyes.

"I would, but," Abigail noticed a brightly colored sneaker poke into her stall. "I don't make a habit of leaving people alone to cry; even if we aren't on the best terms. So if you don't open that door, I'm coming in myself."

"I'm not opening the door, and there is no way-" feet first, Kat made her way into the stall. It seemed much smaller with two people in it, sitting knee to knee on the floor. Abigail brought her knees to her chest and hugged them close, moving her envelope so that she was sitting on it. This effort, however, went completely unnoticed. Kat was more focused on what was behind Abigail, so glaringly obvious. Three stick-like objects were balanced on the seat of the toilet. Kat couldn't take her eyes off of them.

"Are those…?" Abigail followed Kat's bright blue eyes to the trail of her curiosity, and panic set in. She snatched the sticks and threw them into the disposal inside the stall, not wanting to look at them any longer. The change in their attitudes were completely evident; Abigail, out of her flurry and suddenly realizing the stakes of Kat seeing what she'd been trying so desperately to hide, looked down; focusing her attention on picking at her pastel pink nail polish. Kat didn't know what to do, her gaze wavering between the disposal and her old friend, wondering how she got into this mess.

When they were five the pair had been attached at the hip. Wherever Kat went, so did her dear Abi. They spent countless hours playing make-believe, being chefs and wizards and world-class ballerinas. Their favorite, though, was house. Kat had a neighbor just one house away that the girls loved; a goofy, outgoing boy named Mitchell. When Kat and Abi wanted to play, he was always available with his toothy grin and jokes that made the two laugh without fail.

Kat and Mitch were always the mom and dad, while Abigail remained her character of the aunt that was a professional ballerina. Even at the age of five, this idea was so deeply rooted that it was all she thought about. While Kat and Mitchell cared for their children, aunt Abi was busy showing them her latest dance, making appearances only to help with the babies.

"Abi, aren't you going to be a mum when you grow up?" Kat asked one afternoon after Mitchell had gone back home. Young Abigail shook her head defiantly and grinned, taking a sip of her juice box.

"I'm going to be in the ballet, and ballerinas don't have kids."

That was the last they spoke of the topic. That is, until this point, years later and after their friendship had faded. Now, in the bathroom stall at the ballet school the two had dreamed of attending together, they faced the topic that had become uncharted territory by silent agreement.

"Were they…."

"All positive." Abigail shifted again, hugging her legs even closer to her chest. It was silent for a while. Kat, never having been put into this situation and not knowing how to react, put her hand on Abigail's, looked at her with a mild reassurance. It was strange, this moment. Kat ripped off another piece of toilet paper and Abigail rubbed her eyes, shaking her head. Her tutu was a mess, hair was falling out of her bun, and she could care less. The ex-best friends were put into a place they hadn't been in such a long time, the old roles they once held with each other reintroduced. This time, however, Kat was playing the reassuring mother, consoling the daughter who went wrong. Soon, after another careful silence, she moved on to the question she already knew the answer to.

"Whose is it?" The brunette whispered in reply, so softly that Kat strained to hear it. Somehow, even knowing in her gut who it was, she had to hear the name to believe it was true. "I can't hear you…"

"Sammy."


	3. Chapter 3

It was painful to watch her go through her daily routine. The first time Kat saw Abigail after their incident in the bathroom, it was early; _four in the morning_, to be exact. She sported her usual early morning outfit; tight black pants, white sneakers, and an athletic shirt in a startling pink. She wore her shiny brown hair in a high ponytail, a thick headband keeping its non-existent whisps out of her face. Upon seeing Kat, she paused at the bottom of the stairs, tightening her ponytail as she received a questioning glare from the blonde.

"Someone has to work for what they want." She shot in her snide voice, avoiding her before moving to start her morning run. Abigail didn't know what Kat wanted with her, wondered if Kat knowing her secret would mean that she wanted to be best friends again, just like that. As if responding to Abigail's thoughts and not her words, Kat merely shook her head.

"I don't get how someone can be so obnoxious while having a piece of someone like Sammy with them at all times." Abigail stopped, as if she were going to come back with a quick quip. Thinking better of it, she shook her head, trying to get the awful feeling away with one simple motion. If that didn't work, she could always run it off. She'd always been good at exercising her feelings away.

It was an obnoxiously sunny day, and Abigail met it with a hesitant sort of zeal; much different from her usual focused attitude. She made it through half of her morning run before giving up, not used to a new round of fatigue that had hit her. It was as if simply knowing about what she was expecting made her feel the symptoms immediately. Exercise was not a good thing to have on the agenda after all. Instead, she decided to head for lunch, carting her dance bag along for her class. Ordering a small salad, she felt as though she were being watched; as if everybody knew her secret. Groups of people laughing and chattering were automatically laughing about her. Someone who glanced at her too long had noticed her insecurity. She hated it. She walked along near the railing, though, keeping her eyes straight ahead and letting the ocean view calm her nerves.

"You're joking, right?" She heard the girl's higher pitched, louder voice before she saw her. Strands of long blonde hair were falling out of her messy bun, and despite the thin headband she had put on they still managed to get in the way of her eyes; a striking blue. Abigail rolled her eyes at her new companion and took a large bite of her salad, continuing to walk.

"You can't do this, you know. You need to eat something substantial." The brunette continued to ignore her, and Kat shook her head at her friend's stubborn mind. She raced in front of her, pulling her to the side and lowering her voice. "You're eating for two now, you do realize that."

Abigail, normally never missing a beat in conversations like this, was awestruck for a few seconds. Kat had already stopped her today; what was next? Would she never give up, never cease to tell her how horrible she was doing? Her mouth hung open, and for a fleeting moment Kat could see every worry she was feeling in just one look. That passed, however, and Abigail put up her walls. She gave Kat a menacing look, fire in her chocolate eyes.

"Since when are you the expert on all things baby?"

"Since I cared about you and…._the baby_" Her voice dropped on the last two words, and Abigail's hand subconsciously moved to her stomach, where flat abs were just beginning to make way for a small bump. "And I know how much you care about it, so don't act like it's nothing. I know you're not going to change your psychotic, excessive exercise routine, but the least you could do is _try _for the baby. Just a bit. Think of what Sammy would be saying."

Her cold exterior melted then, features softening on the pretty, simple face Kat had always been jealous of. Her lips were bent but she was trying desperately to hide a frown, to blink back forming tears. Kat felt sympathy gather in the pit of her stomach and put her hand on Abigail's shoulder, looking at her with genuine guilt.

"Abbi…" Abigail shook Kat's hand off of her shoulder, shaking her head. She put up a hand to let the other girl know that she was alright, but to wait a minute for her response. She sucked in a breath.

"Sammy would have been the one to talk to me about this-the food, I mean. Even from first year he was always on my back about what I ate. He was the one who knew I was so consumed in this world of carbs and calories and wanted so badly for me to see how wrong it was to do this to myself. If he were here-" She paused, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. The students who passed them gave the pair strange glances; they knew the history of Kat and Abigail's friendship, hell, everybody at the academy did. They didn't understand why Abigail seemed to be venting to Kat at that moment, why she seemed so distraught.

"If Sammy were here he'd take this salad, chuck it into the trash, and try to force a piece of his pizza down my throat." She could see him now, in the yellow hoodie he loved, the one that fit her so snugly now. She envisioned the greasy bits of the pizza he loved, how it once dribbled onto his favorite shirt and he'd been complaining about it. She'd taken the shirt to wash, and with the stain completely out Sammy was ecstatic (more so than she'd thought was right over a simple shirt). On their lunch dates he'd pretend to force her to eat the greasy food and she'd scoff, feigning offense before pushing it away from him. Secretly, Abigail had loved how he looked out for her in such a way. "He'd make sure I ate enough, he'd read all of the books…If Sammy were here I'd have to tell him about the baby."

"If Sammy were here he'd know, Abigail. And he'd be with you every step of the way-"

"Following me around-"

"Coaxing you into reading books and taking vitamins-"

"Making sure I was alright,-"

"Holding your hand. Every step of the way."

_She felt a shift, a whisper of something different. Her hand closed around something invisible, unseen. She continued to dance. She knew that he was with her._

Abigail froze upon hearing Kat's last comment, remembering one of her first nights back at the academy; the night she had truly felt as though Sammy were with her.

_In the late night, with the moon illuminating the dimly lit room, Abigail felt Sammy linger, felt his need to stay with her. It was as if he were trying to tell her something important, but could not get a hold of her. One last brush against her, a chill that ran along her spine, and he was gone._

"It was his way of telling me…" She trailed. Her brown eyes were wandering through their surroundings, but never truly focused on one point. Abigail was lost in thought, and Kat stared back at her, curiosity making the ocean of her eyes sparkle.

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing." She murmured. Kat watched as Abigail began to walk away from her, a distant look still in her eyes. The bowl was thrown into the trash, and Abigail got back into the ordering line for lunch. _It was his way of telling me that everything would be alright. I just need to trust him._


	4. Chapter 4

Before Abigail was faced with this incident and the tragic one preceding it, her life had been taking a turn for the better. Finally, things were beginning to look up. Although she wasn't in the Prix, she had other opportunities to look forward to. Being cast as Wendy in the production of Peter Pan, Abigail knew she had a lot to prove to the company in terms of getting into character. Wendy was nice; adorable and demure with a hint of a defensive side, someone who would always be there to protect her younger brothers. Overall she was sweet, and the company wanted her to portray that to its fullest; something Abigail was not used to doing at all.

Her life with relationships was moving in a strange direction. She and Sammy had called it quits a while before, and he had started dating Ollie, a guy. She tried not to wonder if she had turned him gay, although she knew that the thought is something that would be frowned upon if she said it out loud. Was she really so repulsive, though, that she could be the last girl a guy could date before he gave up on them completely? She tried to be with Ethan, but they were too similar; both were driven by insane passion and a need to do their best at all times. Both were too involved in their love of dance to realize that they were in a relationship that was something other than professional. That ended, it seemed, before it even began.

Abigail now struggled with the fact that she was being pursued by someone she had just met, really. He was nice enough, involved with the theater she had begun to act for. He tried too hard, it seemed, to be with her. From the moment she started working in the theater, he seemed to change the entirety of his schedule to be with her. She knew she should give him a chance, but there was something else. Every time she was with this new guy, she only thought of Sammy.

She had no idea what she was doing. Abigail hung around Sammy, starting to ease him into the topic of her newest affections (although with Sammy there, everything she said felt like a lie). He seemed to listen intently, and it nearly crushed her. She didn't see one bad expression on his face, one thing that would suggest that he missed her even a fraction of how much she craved being with him again. So her talk got heavier, more crafty. She began to gush over this guy, the way she had seen so many people do and in a way she had only ever done about Sammy. When she noticed the slightest bit of a twitch to his lip, she tried to hide a grin. Maybe there was something there, she'd just have to find out.

Abigail knew it wasn't exactly normal to go on a 'practice date,' but then again she had never been a normal girl. Maybe, she thought, it would seem abnormally normal, something she would do without a second thought from anybody else on her motives. She wanted everything to go off without a hitch; to possibly talk to Sammy about what she'd been feeling since he'd changed his mind. He was broken up with Ollie, and that had to mean that something good could come out of taking him to the aquarium, right?

He watched her as she went on about fish and penguins and every species they laid eyes on, tapping her pen against her notebook as she wracked her brain for the information they had spent the previous night studying like crazy. He knew that this date must have meant a lot to her; why else would she be running a practice, studying facts he knew she could care less about? He'd only seen her study ballet like this, but still she focused more on ballet than the fish in front of them. As Sammy watched her, something inside of him softened. He admired the way she balanced the notebook in one hand, how she was up on her toes when she needed to concentrate most. He loved the way her eyes wandered, sparkling brown as she dug for another piece of information, how happy she was when she got her facts right.

Most notable of the feelings that rushed to him was longing. He missed Abigail, the way her hand felt in his and how she teased him mercilessly about every little thing. He missed the way she was so insistent about his future; how he knew she believed in him when it seemed that nobody else did. She was Abigail, with her hard exterior and edgy voice. Abigail; who always seemed to ask why of everybody but wasn't answered often. She wanted the world for herself but believed that she wasn't worth it when Sammy knew that she was worth so much more. To him, she was still _his _Abigail, and he wanted nothing more than to go back to what they had been.

"Why is it so important that you impress this guy?" He asked, leaning against the shark tank in agitation. Her back was facing him and she was bent over her notebook in the way he loved, lips moving furiously as she attempted to remember the information she'd written. "He should be impressed enough just going out with you."

She rolled her eyes, turning slowly. It took her a moment of thought, but she soon collected what seemed like a reasonable response.

"He used the word iterative in a sentence. Casually." He looked shocked, taken aback almost.

"I could use the word iterative." It had slipped out, leaving both of them speechless for a moment. He hadn't meant to seem so desperate, but suddenly he could feel Abigail falling out of his reach, so soon after his feelings were renewed and intensified. He didn't want to lose her, not to this guy.

A smile played on Abigail's lips. Had Sammy been…jealous? He seemed so defensive to her, so keen on letting her know that he was just as good as this new guy-if not better. She knew that as a fact, but he was clearly unaware. In this moment, she could almost pretend that this was a real date.

She flaked on her real date.

He was nothing compared to Sammy. He was nothing and Abigail knew that going in but her practice date had only heightened her feelings for Sammy. It was as if nothing else was important. Now, however, she had to watch him look through lists of national academies he could get into if he won the Prix. He could move as far as Sweden; cold and lonely. He could even move to Russia if he chose to. He wouldn't choose Sydney. Why would he when there were so many other opportunities out there?

He noticed her sitting on the side of the ice rink that night, head bent to her phone in concentration. It looked as though she were typing a long text message and curious by nature, he skated over to see what was going on.

"…How could you ditch your date?" He asked, not even attempting to hide the slight grin on his face.

"I think I'm just going to date myself for a while." She responded, holding out her phone. Sammy took it and began to read, nodding his head appreciatively. Abigail had begun to write a bucket list, something she fully intended on checking off when she was available to things besides dance.

"I could help you tick it off." Another comment unthought-of. Abigail liked the idea, however. She imagined doing the things on the list with Sammy, how easy it would come and how fun she knew he could make the experience. If she chickened out, he'd be there to push her, to tell her that her life was short and she hadn't experienced anything yet. They would challenge each other, make it more than just a bunch of silly checkmarks on a list. He'd be the perfect person to check off her list with.

But he would be gone. If he won the Prix…_when _he won the Prix (because Abigail admired Sammy as a dancer more than she liked to admit sometimes) he would choose somewhere far from her. Her only friend and first love would be gone, and she would be alone with nothing but an unchecked list that she'd be far too scared to check off by herself. Who else would she call, when Sammy was in Berlin or Russia? She couldn't bare the thought.

"Don't….don't tell anyone, but _if _I win….I'm choosing Sydney." He skated away then, leaving her grinning like a schoolgirl to herself. He would choose Sydney, spend third year with her. There was still time. Even so, she was still worried about the fact.

Abigail followed him, trailing behind slower in case of injury. She called his name and Sammy turned, waiting for her to catch up. He smiled a crooked sort of smile, a teasing twinkle making its way to his eyes.

"Couldn't catch up there, Abigail?"

"Sammy, listen…" He paused his teasing ways immediately, skating over to a railing and trailing her along with him. He didn't hear Abigail in this softer, more withdrawn tone of voice often, but when he did he knew that what she was saying was very important. "I don't normally do things like this-"

"-Like what?" She shot Sammy a look and he shut his mouth, prepared to attempt not to interrupt her anymore.

"I still have feelings for you. And I know we broke up, and I know you had your thing with Ollie, but I just wanted to let you know that-" He stopped her, moving his face closer until their lips were barely touching.

"I still have feelings for you too." Abigail closed the distance between them, the feeling of his lips on hers a familiarity and a relief. This was something she had missed more than anything.

"So…will you be my girlfriend again?"

XXx

Their relationship was renewed, and once again a secret. It wasn't as if they were ashamed of each other; they had talked about that already. It was too soon, they thought, to let everybody back in on their relationship. Everybody seemed to have an opinion, and the pair weren't about to let people get in the way of their happiness.

And they were happy. Abigail wasn't as controlling as she had been, wasn't as opposed to shedding light on their relationship. She let Sammy be different around her in public, didn't care if it made people question them. She let her own reigns go, and it felt amazing. For once, she wasn't trying to control every single situation. For once, she felt truly happy; blissful, almost. It was all thanks to Sammy.

The night before the Prix, there was a small party being held in the common room of their dorm. It was a nice, little thing, everybody ready to cheer on their classmates who were going to compete the next day. There were decorations and food, and the boys had even started a pool tournament. Tara and Ben were sat on the couch, focused on a collage of the girls she was up against as Kat pointed to them in turn, rattling off information to help. Abigail, however, was not in attendance. Sammy brought her to the theater to test his dance on her, just as she'd tested her date on him. She watched in awe as he amazed her yet again; a simple message intertwined with the steps of his dance. She couldn't take her eyes off of him. There was something so flawless about the way his dancing came so naturally to him, yet the fact that he still worked so hard, was always his biggest critic.

"Really? Because I can change it…" It was his fifth or sixth version of the question; she'd lost count a while ago. She shook her head, grinning at him.

"Lieberman are you seriously still fishing for compliments?" She teased. He really was magnificent, and she would tell him every time that he was. To Abigail, though, Sammy didn't need anymore reassurance. He was just fine the way he was. His dance was flawless, just as he had been to her since they'd started dating again. He spun her around and kissed her, and it took all over her power to hold back a girlish giggle.

She felt something rush to her head, and she forced herself to stop kissing him. It was silent when they pulled back, as if something else had taken over; a new, strange feeling.

"I'd better g-I have rehearsals in the morning."

"Oh yeah me too. Well, not rehearsals but, yeah." She chuckled and started to walk, Sammy letting her go ahead a bit. This did not last long, and soon Sammy's lips were on hers again, this time more intense than the other.

"You know," Abigail breathed between kisses. "Tara's sleeping in Kat's room tonight…"

"Oh?" It took a while for the moment to register but when it did he paused, pulling back from her, his eyes widening. "_Oh._"

"I mean it was just a…a passing thought, really." She stumbled over her words, unsure of whether his reaction was good or bad. She was making excuses of herself, she knew that, but she also remembered what had happened the first time they'd tried to have sex. Still, Sammy looked at her, his features softening while a light twinkling made its way to his eyes.

"Let's go." He tugged on her hand and she followed, swinging her room key between her fingers.

XXx

If Abigail had thought that simply being with Sammy was the best feeling in the world, she would count herself wrong. Nothing compared to the rush of butterflies she felt as she woke up the next morning wrapped in his arms. She knew that these feelings were totally uncharacteristic, but it was fact that Sammy was changing her for the better. She craned her neck to look at him and was met with open eyes, his gentle smile widening.

"Well good morning." He yawned, pulling her closer to him. She moved her head back to his chest and closed her eyes in contentment.

"Morning," She mumbled against his bare chest sleepily. She hadn't slept this good in ages. "Are you nervous about today?" His response was inaudible; a simple shrug. Sammy sighed and put his head on top of hers.

"I just want it to be over, that's all."

"Why? You're in the Prix de Fontaine, it's such a big deal. You were picked out of hundreds of dancers in the country to compete."

"I want things to be normal again, I guess."

"Normal how? Holding hands and confessing our love for each other twenty-four seven? Normal as in back to first year when-"

"Abigail, stop." He put his hand on her shoulder, making sure she was looking up at him. She had begun the same cold-hearted Abigail routine he knew, but hadn't seen in such a long time. She huffed, rolling her eyes at him. "I know you, and I know that you pull this act a lot but this isn't the you I've been seeing, the one I've been loving to spend time with and was ecstatic to wake up to this morning. Why do you pull this act?"

It was silent for a while, Abigail both relieved and in shock by his sudden rant. He wasn't mad at her, more curious about what was up. If it were anybody else, she knew she'd be toast; yelled at and left. Sammy, however, was patient with her. He was patient even if she didn't quite know why she did things sometimes.

"I don't know." She mused, fishing for the words to say to respond to his question truthfully. "I guess I just…have trouble with my feelings. And by doing what I do, it sort of blocks them out. I try to convince myself that my feelings aren't real, not important enough to be thought about or taken into consideration."

"Well, they are. Anything's more than important to take into consideration, Abigail. You're worth so much more than what you think you are. Not what you _say _you think, but what you truly think." Abigail grinned at Sammy, tipping her head to give him a light kiss. He always seemed to know what to say to make her feel better.

Reluctantly, he moved from bed; gathering his clothes and putting them on slowly, still in conversation with Abigail. She could tell now that his nerves were beginning to set in, but couldn't help but admire how well he seemed to be handling them. Before moving any farther he moved back to the bed, dropping to give her one last kiss.

"I'm going on a run before I have to be at the theater. If I don't see you before then, well…" He paused, taking a breath. His hand rested on the doorknob, but he couldn't let himself leave just yet. "Just remember that if I do win, I'm choosing Sydney. And I love you."

And although Abigail had problems with her feelings from years of tearing them down, she knew exactly what to say in that moment. There was no thinking, no trying to pretend that she didn't care. She smiled softly at him, waving her hand as he turned the knob slowly.

"I love you too, Sammy. Good luck today, I'll be watching."


	5. Chapter 5

It was a bright day, and for once in a very rare occasion the dancers at the Australian National Academy of Dance had the day off. Most had flocked to the beach with promises of playing volleyball, carrying Frisbees and picnic blankets along with them as their flip flops clicked in a blissful unison to the bus stop. Some stayed behind, still in dance clothes, attempting to catch up on what they were having troubles with. Some students milled around campus, simply looking for something to do.

Kat and Abigail were part of the last category, sitting together in the empty common room of their dorm. Abigail was propped against the couch with the remote in her hand, rewinding and watching her dancing over and over. It was an old habit; something she seemed to do when she was stressed. Kat seemed to be trying to ignore this fact. The blonde sat on the other side of the couch, a book balanced in her lap while a stack of them sat next to her. Her head was bent, and she read through the information with careful, interested intensity. The room was silent save the sound of the rewinding television, the same section of routine music on repeat.

From the moment Kat and Abigail had found out her secret together, the blonde had not left her former best friend alone. Things were awkward, sure, but Kat was adamant on making sure that the now pregnant teen was doing things right for herself and her baby.

"Month three; your baby's internal organs are starting to develop….hey, did you know he has fingernails now?" Abigail looked up from her dvd with a look of disdain. This isn't what she wanted to hear right now, when she was trying to focus on her dancing. She wanted things to be normal…for her, at least. Normal included flipping through tapes of her dance routines while trying to perfect technique, not listening to her sort-of friend read facts from a baby book. She glared at Kat, rolling her eyes.

"Put that book away! I'm trying to focus." She attempted to snatch the object, but failed. Kat held her thumb where she was in the book and closed it, moving it to a place that Abigail would be unable to reach. She tried to act offended, crossing her arms over her chest and lowering her voice.

"I just thought you'd want to know."

"Plus, how do you know it's a boy?"

"Do you want a girl?"

"I don't know what I want, alright? I'm not even certain I'm keeping her yet."

An eerie silence. The television continued to play, the light tones of the piano a strange soundtrack to their silent difference. Abigail had nothing farther to say on the matter; the comment not even thought out. Until that moment, she hadn't realized that she had options concerning her baby. Hell, she'd managed to trick herself into believing that her situation wasn't true. She was so caught up in her dancing, as usual, that she managed to successfully block everything else out. Now she was faced with the truth.

"…You're not keeping it?" She moved forward on the couch, perching her elbows on her knees and looking down at her brunette friend.

"I…I don't know."

"Have you talked to your mom yet?"

"I haven't talked to her since the funeral."

"You should talk to her." Abigail pulled out her phone reluctantly, sighing. She knew that if she talked to her mother; told her about what was going on, that things would never be the same. They'd always had a rocky relationship, to Abigail it seemed that this would only push them over the edge.

"No way!" The phone was taken from Abigail's hands, much to the protest of the brunette. She tried to get the phone back, but in vain. Kat would not stop her protest. "You can't just call her to tell her, you need to _see _her! She hasn't seen you in months now, you weren't even there for summer break. Plus, Paige is probably dying to see you."

"Paige doesn't care." Abigail retorted, taking the stack of books from Kat and making sure their cover titles were not visible. Books with words like _pregnant, expecting, baby_ written on them in curly, adorable writing. Books made for grown, married women out of school who were ready to commit to such a thing. Girls whose sisters would be more than happy to welcome a little niece or nephew. Girls whose sisters would be proud of them, look up to them. This, Abigail knew, was not her case.

"Paige does care. She loves you, she looks up to you. It won't matter to her what happens." The brunette was about to say more, to protest, but she stopped. She knew in that moment that nothing she could say would change Kat's mind. She would simply have to pretend that she was right.

Xxx

Her mother came to pick her up that afternoon. It had been too long, she said, since she'd come to visit. Paige was at their father's, but she was on her way down for the occasion.

"She misses you," Her mother said, her voice earnest and quiet. "She talks about you all the time." Abigail simply shrugged, made a small, noncommittal noise. It wasn't as if she weren't excited to see her younger sister, it was just that she knew things

When they were younger, they had been a lot closer than they were now. When Paige was born, Abigail was suddenly the protective older sister. As a former older child, her parents had been concerned about her. She was always concerned about herself, and her mother and father were too since she was their only little girl. They made sure she was constantly stimulated, and were always in attendance at her dance recitals and practices. They made sure there was always time for her to show off her dances to them, to play silly games while they watched faithfully. With a new baby, they knew things would be different for young Abigail.

She took well to Paige, though. As she grew, she became something of Abigail's dress-up doll. As a toddler her older sister brushed her hair, dressed her, and made sure she was ready for the morning. She played with her, tried to teach her her dance moves. They didn't fight often, only about petty things that were typical in the lives of sisters. They were the best of friends.

Abigail and Paige's relationship began to fall when the older began training to get into the academy. She danced longer hours, worked harder than she ever had. She ate differently, was no longer carefree. With Paige so young in this moment, she didn't understand. Why couldn't Abigail have a normal childhood and be happy about it? Why did she have to go along a career route already? The harder she danced, the more different she acted, too. She was strange, distant. She moved through life with a bitter attitude and a cold demeanor. She and Paige no longer played together; Abigail didn't have time to play. Ballet took over her life, and Paige felt left in the dust.

Watching Abigail dance, though, her younger sister knew that their tattered relationship was not in vain. She was talented, gifted and dedicated. Her passion made her twice as good, even better than who her older sister called the 'naturals,' she thought. Although she missed who they used to be, she could not help but feel overbearing pride for her sister.

When their mother's car pulled up to the house, Abigail watched the front door fly open. A pair of small feet in bright green leggings going to the knees was running toward the car, smiling and waving. As soon as the car was in park Abigail opened the door and a pair of arms was around her.

"Look at you!" She said, moving Paige back at arms length to take a look at her. She noticed a white jersey and her barefeet, sighing and putting a bit of a teasing tone into her voice. "What are you into now? No more rhythmic gymnastics?"

"Nope!" Paige replied in a chipper tone. She ran circles around her sister, showing off her newest attire. "Football now."

Her older sister chuckled, shaking her head. She rarely said it out loud (and barely ever to Paige) but she truly admired her sister for trying so many things. In her life, Abigail danced. She lived it, breathed it, and made it her life's passion at a very young age. As a person, Paige was not like that. She spent her time flitting from activity to activity, trying new things and making friends in as many areas as possible. On more than one occasion, she wished that they could switch lives. But she knew it was not possible, so she settled with watching her sister flourish as an overall person. Now, she merely wished that their relationship could be back where it was.

They spent the day together. Paige showed Abigail her football trophies, as well as the tape of her last gymnastics meet. The pair baked together, watched old home movies. Abigail thought the day was amazing, just how they were when they were younger. Paige, young yet carrying a bright mind, knew that something different was brewing.

It began when Abigail took her first cookie off of the rack. She bit into it, letting it melt into her mouth. Chocolate chip had been her favorite back when she wasn't on her restricted diet, and now that she was beginning to come off of it, they were making a comeback into her life. Paige watched her, intrigued. Normally, it would take force to get Abigail to eat something they'd baked. Now, she took it willingly. Then another one. Soon, the two had devoured the entire batch, laying side by side on the floor with full stomachs, giggling. They talked, caught up on what they'd missed in each other's lives. It was light, mostly about Paige's newfound dating life and her new football friends. Soon, however, it became silent. The cookies were gone, and the younger of the two was left playing with the empty plate on her lap.

"Do you miss Sammy?" The question seemed random, but both of the siblings knew it was only a matter of time before it would arise. The subject matter was tough, they knew that, but it was something that needed to be talked about.

"I do." Abigail wasn't about to lie to her sister. Paige wasn't a baby anymore, she knew that. She didn't have to sugar-coat things the way she would have, or the way she would eventually for her mother. With Paige, she could say everything. "Sometimes it's too much, and other times I feel like I might finally be ready to move on."

"But you're not…"

"No." There was the slightest hint of inflection in Abigail's voice, something that told her sister that there was more to the conversation that hadn't been said; something she wouldn't tell her.

"What's…why….." Paige paused, drumming her fingers on the empty plate resting on her stomach. She couldn't seem to come up with a proper question, something that would lead her to the information she knew her sister was hiding and she desperately wanted to find out.

"What?"

"You're…different. I'm not complaining, I mean this is the most fun I've had hanging out with you in a long time. This is the first time we've really hung out in a long time, actually."

"And you want to know why I'm different." Paige nodded. The older of the two sighed, closing her eyes to block out a sudden headache. She wondered why things were so confusing, why she couldn't just outright deal with Sammy's death and have that be her only burden. But sadly, the truth is not always something to smile about. "It's a long story."

"Well, we have the afternoon. And it'll give you an excuse to come back again." Her voice sounded as child-like as it had the whole afternoon, and it stirred something within Abigail. Here she was reminded of the girls they used to be; telling secrets and gossiping. Now, the oldest of the pair had the largest secret of all.

"You can't tell mum. Or dad. I'm going to do that myself. That's why I came here, actually."

"I thought you actually wanted to see me." Paige teased, a twinkle in her eyes. For the first time that afternoon, Abigail did not return it.

"Paige I'm having a baby. Sammy's baby. Which is why it's been so hard to get over him. Well, that's not the only reason but it's the biggest one. I don't know what I'm going to do about the Academy. Or the baby. The company's called me twice this year to see me. Somehow, I managed to have it all and screw it up in a matter of days, and I'm scared. I don't know what to do." She shut her eyes tight and wrinkled her nose, her eyebrows furrowing before she hid her face completely in Paige's side.

Completely shocked, the younger sister knew what to do. For her age, she knew a lot about disappointment, and what to do when somebody was at their worst. Everything she knew, she learned from being there for her older sister; through competitions and recitals, through major wins and complete disappointment. She let her hide her head in her side, stroking the silky brown hair that ran in their family. She had no advice for the situation, nothing profound to say. But for Abigail, just having her there was enough.

From the archway of the kitchen where she watched her daughters grow up, Abigail and Paige's mother wished that they were younger again. Everything seemed so simple, in their dressup and coloring party days. Now, as a supposed soon-to-be grandmother, she didn't know what to think.

Her bare feet getting cold from the tile, the mother of the two girls shifted on her feet, lips turning down scornfully before she moved into the light of the kitchen, her hands on her hips.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"You ate all of the cookies?" The frown that had once adorned the face of the mother of the two girls laying on the floor was replaced with a grin. Paige giggled and placed the empty plate of cookies next to her haphazardly, pushing herself from the ground while looking at her mother with twinkling eyes.

"Not just me, mum. Abigail ate just as many as I did!" The aforementioned girl was wiping her eyes, attempting to collect herself. At the mention of her name she sat up, shrugging her shoulders and putting on a grin to match her mother's.

The two smiles were not alike in just structure; the women shared DNA, after all. It was the similarity in deception, a slight hint keen with intent. Each woman knew that the other was hiding something; bluffing right in front of the girl who stared between them happily. The youngest knew nothing of the situation, but could feel how tense it had suddenly become in the room. She could sense that something was about to go wrong.

"I'm going up to my room. Tons of homework. Call me before you leave, Abigail!" The oldest shot her a look, one last plead to stay. Paige, however, did not notice her sister's cry for help and ran up the stairs.

To say the least, Abigail figured she deserved it for being such a shitty sister.

Her mother's smile disappeared as soon as she heard Paige's door close. She shook her head, picking the empty cookie platter from the floor and placing it in the sink, turning on the tap. As she washed, she let the silence linger. It was almost as if she was taunting Abigail, the mother. Abigail did not know how much she knew in this moment, and she honestly did not want to find out.

"So…Has the company called you yet?"

"Twice." Abigail replied, grabbing a broom from the cupboard and beginning to sweep the spare crumbs from the floor. She seemed cocky, but not in the way that her mother was so used to. "I think they really want me. They might even be considering me for a contract right out of the academy."

The cookie plate clattered in the sink. Anthea Armstrong did not look at her daughter, but kept her head straight, focusing on the water dripping from the plate into the sink, the drain swallowing it with its gentle power. She took a breath, shaking her head in attempts to remove the anger that had begun to bubble inside of her. Abigail jumped at the sound of the dropping plate but pretended to ignore what was going on. This only frustrated her mother more, and she turned to her with a vindictive glint in her eyes, identical to her daughter's but bearing a completely different expression.

"Why won't you talk to me?" Her voice was harsh, louder than Abigail knew it would be if she were talking about the company. She realized, all too late, that her mother knew every last detail of the incident that was plaguing her.

"Would you have listened to me?"

"I would have done a hell of a lot more than Paige could do, Abigail. She's _thirteen_! She shouldn't be so informed about things like this. She's a little girl, she has her whole life ahead of her! What do you think she thinks about finding out that her sister whored herself out like that?"

"I didn't _whore myself out, _mother. It was a mutual thing that we agreed upon a while ago but never went through with until then."

"You still did it, that's enough for me."

Abigail dropped the broom, throwing her hands into the air in exasperation. She had never been so frustrated in her life.

"We did it out of _love_; out of the fact that we knew we'd be together forever. And until the incident I knew it would be forever."

"So it's Sammy's, then."

"Of course it is, whose else would it be?" Althea didn't answer. She simply continued rinsing the dish, consumed in her work and attempting to be anywhere else but in the kitchen with her…_pregnant _daughter.

"Well, it's alright anyway. I'll make an appointment as soon as I'm done with this dish." Abigail breathed a sigh of relief, but did not let the breath completely out. There was something about her mother's tone of voice, her stiff posture, that made Abigail think that she wasn't completely out of the water yet.

"…Good then. Just make sure it's a day we don't have classes, Kat wants to go with me too." Her mother turned then, leaning her body against the counter. She pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes.

"I don't think you fully understand. It's not the kind of appointment Kat would want to go to, Abigail."

It took a while for her mind to register exactly what her mother meant, but once she did Abigail felt as though every single emotion was rushing their way into her all at once; anger for her mother's inability to understand her, sorrow for her child, irritancy at herself for ever getting into this mess. With that came a new feeling, one of an intense kind of protectiveness she had never felt before. She clutched at her stomach then, as if she could guard the new life from her mother's clutches. This was the last portion of Sammy she had, and she would guard it with her life. She wouldn't lose another piece of him.

"I'm not doing it."

"You have to, Abigail. Think about your career-"

"That's all you ever say to me!" She was shouting now, pacing around the kitchen as her mother attempted to quiet her.

"You'll disrupt Paige."

"No! You're listening to me." Althea, although angry, sat on the couch in their living room. Her arms were crossed, one leg set over the other. She listened stone-heartedly while her hazel eyes were ablaze.

"Ever since I was little, I wanted to be a ballerina. You listened to that. You put me in classes, and that was the last time you listened to anything I said." Her mother moved to say something, holding her pointer finger in protest. Her daughter shot her a look, tight lipped and glaring. Althea stopped, and Abigail continued;

"I tried to quit. I tried to quit twice, if I remember right. You wouldn't listen. It was always 'you could have such a great career.' 'Watch your weight, Abigail.' 'You can't have that, it's bad for a ballerina.' 'One less thing to eat, Abigail.' Somehow, I listened to all of that. You brainwashed me, and although ballet is my passion I'm not going to allow myself to be manipulated anymore. I'm _eighteen _years old, mother. I can make decisions for myself now. And my decision is that I'm going to keep this baby whether you like it or not. She belongs to me and Sammy, and I would never do something like that to him. Or her."

"Abigail," Her mother sighed, folding her hands together on her lap. "Please don't make this any more difficult than it has to be. What's done is done. Your appointment will be next Monday. If you don't show up, I'll come to the academy and pick you up myself. I won't let you ruin your career over a stupid mistake you made with some boy you feel like you have to honor just because he's died."

Abigail picked up her stuff and paused at the bottom of the staircase, calling for her sister. Her mother watched intently, anger still in play. While she waited, her hand went absent-mindedly to her stomach. Althea shook her head. Paige came rumbling down the stairs, still in her football uniform. One look at her older sister told her that things didn't go to well.

"I love you, but I won't be coming back anytime soon. I'll call, but I can't be around mum right now." The older of the sisters whispered as they hugged, feeling a fresh prickle of tears in her eyes.

"What did she do? What happened?" Paige whispered back. But Abigail looked at her mother, already on the edge and shaking her head at her, and knew that she could not tell Paige about it there, not then. It would have to wait. Slinging her duffle over her shoulder, Abigail walked out of the house and pulled out her cell phone, attempting to find a ride back to the academy.

XXx

"She can't do that." Kat sat in Abigail and Tara's dorm, cross-legged on the floor with a bowl of macaroni balanced in her lap. Abigail sat across from her, leaning on her own bed and sucking on a lollipop to keep her morning sickness at bay. It was the day after her mother made the decision about Abigail's baby, and she was just telling Kat now. It had been too much to handle the night before.

"Apparently she can."

"But you're eighteen!"

"But she's my mother, so apparently she has reign on me for the rest of my life." She bit down hard into her lollipop, attempting to transfer her anger into her actions. Normally she would be dancing, but with the circumstances it just didn't feel right. "She wonders why I grew to be so controlling. I mean, look at her!"

"She's awful. Not only is she….I can't say it. She's…_harming _your baby, but she's also harming you! She's absolutely daft if she thinks it's not going to effect you for the rest of your life."

"She knows that. She knows everything. She just chooses not to look at that fact."

It was silent for a while save the friends' munching. Kat's fork bumped clumsily against the bowl she was using, and she put it down in frustration, covering her head in her hands.

"You can't go."

"I have to. I don't have a choice, Kat. If I don't go she'll drag me there herself. She's bound and determined to ruin my life."

"But if you go…." The sentence was left unopened. Both knew what would happen if Abigail went to the appointment the following Monday. She would be back in the studio the following day, training just like everybody else. But she would be slowly recovering, her mind always wandering back to her baby. Would it have been a boy or a girl? What would they have been interested in? Would they be an Olympian? A hero? All were questions that would have to go unanswered thanks to the control of the woman that gave birth to her, that was so connected to her but knew nothing of how much this would hurt her both physically and mentally.

"I know."

"Sammy would know how to fix this."

"I know…" Abigail brought her knees to her chest, setting her lollipop in its wrapper next to her. She put her head on her knees, fighting back another set of tears. "I can't do this."

"I know. I won't let it happen. I promise."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Abigail couldn't move. She couldn't think, would not dare look at herself in the mirror. During her Friday class she kept her head away from the wall of dreadful mirrors, missing her turns and fumbling more times than she had ever before. She drained Mrs. Raine's voice from her head, leaving it as only a muted, mumbling background noise. The same delicate piano music they had been learning to since first year filled the rest of the empty space; the space she was trying so desperately to keep occupied with anything but her thoughts.

Kat danced with just as much a show of distraction as Abigail did, if not more. The brunette ballerina was used to fielding thoughts from her mind, from focusing on only the task at hand. Her training had taught her that, but it was faltering that day. Kat, however, was not used to the amount of self-discipline this required. Her eyes continued to wander to Abigail, to the miniscule bump just barely seen from her uniform.

This baby meant more to Abigail than just its connection to Sammy, she could sense that. As much as the beautiful ballerina hated to admit it, the baby was everything to her. Kat knew Abigail couldn't stop rubbing her stomach; knew that her search history on her computer was full of baby names and advice on how to care for a baby at such a young age. There were always a few cheap apartments circled in the newspaper (if she didn't read the newspaper, then how would anybody know what was happening?). Somewhere within the mess of this baby ruining her career, from her absolutely not wanting to keep it, Abigail had become dedicated to the little being growing inside of her. Now that she was, it was all going to be taken away.

"Abigail! Are you certain you've made it to third year? I've seen better pirouettes out of the auditions to get into this academy." She'd been hearing these comments the duration of the lesson, but for some reason this one had managed to come out in her regular voice, breaking through its once muffled timbre. Abigail cringed at her teacher's harsh tone and moved higher on her feet, pushing herself to dispel the comments. She noticed her classmates watching now, staring at her with incredulous eyes. It wasn't often that Abigail got chided in such a harsh voice, but now that it was happening everybody wanted to see the action.

She kept herself up for two turns, but on the third it seemed as if her energy simply gave out. Mrs. Raine scowled.

"Class dismissed, you may all leave. Abigail, stay here so I can talk with you." The aforementioned girl sucked in a nervous breath, casting her eyes down to the floor to avoid her classmates snickering. She supposed she deserved it, though. She'd spent her first two years of life at the academy making everyone else's a living hell.

"Abigail, what's wrong with you? Lately it's as though you've been taking steps backward instead of forward. The company's called me personally three times to ask about you. They've come to one of our performances already, so early in the year. They want you, Abigail. You need to decide if you're ready to make the commitment."

"Mrs. Raine, I-"

There it was. All too soon Abigail could see the lights of her future dimming, fading until there was nothing left but the hope and determination she'd felt as a child. All of her mother's prodding, all of the restrictions she'd set on life…they'd be worth nothing. More than that, though, she'd be out of a place to live. She couldn't do that to her child. Not yet. Mrs. Raine continued to look at her, expectantcy growing with an added bit of concern.

"What?"

"Nothing. I just don't want to make excuses for my performance this past week. I'll work harder, I promise."

"That's what I thought. Go be the Abigail I met at auditions, alright?"

She nodded, gathering her things and went to the door, her pace slow as she attempted to hold her head at the same height. She knew she could never be the girl from auditions. The academy had changed her too much already.

Xxx

Monday was somber; overcast and a bit chilly for the season, much to the dismay of the two girls in light-weight coats making their way to the bus stop from the academy campus. They walked in silence, their shoes making light tapping noises on the concrete sidewalks. On the bus they sat in silence, listening to other people's conversations and pretending that everything was normal. It wasn't until they got off the bus a block away from the doctor's office that the nature of their situation set in. Abigail stopped, taking a deep breath. She wasn't attempting to hide herself behind a stone shield anymore. This moment was far too frightening to disguise herself.

She felt a hand slip into hers and squeezed it tight, closing her eyes. For a moment the pair just stood, two teenage girls with closed eyes and clasped hands dreading what was to come. This was only interrupted by Althea who, watching them from the window, went out to see what was taking them so long.

She wasn't as cold as she had been the night she'd found out about her daughter. This time, the solemn nature of taking her teenaged daughter to get an abortion seemed to finally stir an emotion in her. She looked a bit upset, but like Abigail had done so many times in the past, was trying far too hard to hide it. She bore a vacant expression as she tugged on her daughter's arm, pulling her through the door of the office.

"I'm here for Abigail Armstrong? We have an appointment." The woman addressed, wearing a pink shirt and looking far too cheerful for the occasion, pulled her name up and frowned the slightest bit, taking a look at the two girls accompanying Althea. Another woman soon came, this one wearing pale blue, and Abigail stood up, her mother following her actions. Her gaze flickered between her mother and the doctor, and she scowled.

"I want Kat to come with me." The aforementioned blonde's head shot up, blue eyes full of questions. It wasn't that she didn't want to support her friend, but being present in such a moment was not what she had in mind. This especially since they'd only just become friends again.

"I would rather be the one with you." Her mother replied, stone cold voice never changing. Abigail shot her a look, menacing and cruel. If her mother was going to make her go through with this, she wanted things her way.

The doctor asked the usual routine questions, trying to lighten the mood in a way. She hadn't done much of these operations; she was only twenty-five, a small, pretty woman whose nametag read Elizabeth. She hated her job, but she never let it get to her. It was a way to make money, and these things certainty weren't her choice.

Abigail shifted on the chair she was in, reading the titles of the flyers in the box next to her. They were all supposed to help with the situation she was in, but she doubted they would. The woman came to her, tugging on powder blue latex gloves and continuing to chat in her light, welcoming voice. She pulled over her cart of tools, all seeming to glare back at Abigail. She took a breath, trying to contain herself. In a short while, her nightmare would be over and she'd be on the road to repairing herself. In a moment, her mother would be happy again, if only for a while. Soon, her own life would be over figuratively. Her baby's would be over literally.

Kat sucked back tears, focusing on the gardening magazine left for guests of the patients while trying to daze out. One look at her sent Abigail into the same state. The tears came fast, before she realized what was happening. When the first fell, however, the rest would not quit. Her body collapsed into itself as she attempted to hide from the doctor's tools, curling up on the small bed she was on and hiding her face. The woman stopped what she was doing, dropping her tools and bending down to rub her patient's shoulder.

"It won't hurt, I promise. It'll sting at the least."

"It _will _hurt! Maybe it won't hurt me but it'll hurt _him!_" The doctor's mouth turned in an 'o' shape. She shook her head, rolling the cart even farther back and pulling a chair to the small cot.

"Your boyfriend didn't want this, did he?"

"He's… he's dead. He wouldn't have wanted this, though. I know that." She spoke in between choking sobs, and her doctor continued to shake her head. The emotion she felt was not pity, but something greater. To her, pity was a sorry emotion, one containing a hateful undertone. It was not pity she felt for this young girl, but something more intense, not hateful. It took a while for Abigail to get back into a state where it was possible to speak, and when she did her voice was quiet. Kat moved from her chair and took her hand, her eyes still to the ground. She had to be strong for the brunette, she knew that.

"_I _don't want this. I knew it was an option, but I never really considered it. It crossed my mind a few times, but I'd never do this willingly."

"Then why are you here?"

"My mother. She's making me do this. The baby's the last piece of Sammy I had and she's taking it away from me." Elizabeth moved to Abigail's folder, rifling through her information. Upon the third page, in black writing, she saw it and smiled slightly.

"You're a legal adult, she technically can't make you do anything."

"If I tried that against her I'd be absolutely dead. You don't understand my mother."

"That may be right, but I _do _understand your rights. If your mother continues down this path it could get her into serious trouble. Now…" The woman looked around, as if she were being watched and suddenly self-conscious. She lowered her light voice, moving in to speak to the girls. "I can get you out of this."

"You can?"

"I doubt you can fake an abortion. I'm going to start showing eventually, you know." The doctor let out a slight laugh at their simultaneous comments. The blonde was upbeat, suddenly very full of hope while the pregnant girl continued on her path of scornful disbelief.

"I can't do that; your mother isn't stupid enough to believe it. But I _can_ give you enough time to leave on your own before giving her a piece of my mind. I can refer you to an OBGYN I know who's excellent at what she does. It may not be much to offer, but I know what you're going through. I had my first at sixteen, and as much as I wish I'd been better able to provide for her then I know now that keeping her was the best decision I ever made." Kat's smile widened with each word, and she looked gleefully over to Abigail, who was nodding repeatedly.

"So…I don't have to do this."

"Never."

Xxx

"She _what?_" Althea nearly jumped from her chair in shock, not knowing what to think. She knew her daughter was stubborn, but never realized it would come to something like this. Moments like these were the reason they were so alike, yet so incredibly different. Moments like these made her realize just how often they clashed. Now, however, she couldn't do anything. Althea Armstrong could only listen as the young doctor went on about her daughter.

"She's gone back to school. She and her friend are calling a doctor I highly recommended for her type of pregnancy, and she's going to get the care she needs to carry this baby full-term. Legally, I couldn't do anything against her anyway, and neither can you. I'm sorry ma'am, but her head's in the right place. She has a solid group of people who'll be there for her, and she knows what she's getting into. This means a lot to her, though, and if at some point you change your mind, your support will probably mean the world."

Abigail's mother, tired and defeated, simply walked out of the office and drove back home. It had just begun to drizzle from the overcast sky.


	8. Chapter 8

_The atmosphere around the street was foggy; Abigail could barely see where she was walking or what was going on in front of her. The street lamps only made this worse, illuminating the cold, soggy air and showing every inch of its dancing particles with a strange sort of pride. She continued to walk, but could not feel her feet moving. It was like she was floating in a similar fashion to the fog around her, never touching the ground. Glancing around, the surroundings seemed familiar through the haze. She could just make out a large, ornate building and wide staircase, banners hanging in celebration. It was like some sort of competition was being held there._

_The speakers in the streets came on, and soon Abigail was wrapped in a tune all-too familiar, one she hadn't wanted to hear for the rest of her life. It was the song Sammy had shown her, the one he was going to use for his final dance in the Prix. Her head hung, although she did not feel it. She simply saw it, the change of vision making it clear that she was upset._

_The music was joined by another noise; fast footsteps on the sidewalk. She looked up, catching sight of a figure coming toward her. She moved her head forward, trying to get a better glimpse before two shining lights, parallel to each other, approached the figure. The figure fell immediately, but something else rolled in front of it, stopping just at her feet. Her breath hitching in her throat, Abigail rolled the item over to the figure. It was too late._

_Bending over the shadow she saw blood where it had hit the pavement, and could barely make out the shape of a human face. From the moment Abigail noticed that it was, indeed, a human face, the rest of the story fell into place. The fog seemed to clear to the sides of her vision, and left was the body of a young male, sprawled on the sidewalk and on his last breath. He was handsome, she realized. His hair was a medium brown, and he was wearing sneakers and running shorts, cell-phone in hand. The running figure was Sammy, and he'd just died._

_She looked down at the item that had been rolling along with him, and she covered her mouth with her hand. It was a stroller, and inside was a beautiful baby. She could not make out its gender, but she caught its big brown eyes, unmistakably Sammy's. The baby reached up to her, but before she could hold it it began to cough. First it was only phlegm, and she reached over to clean it from the baby's chin. From phlegm, however, it soon dissolved to blood. The baby continued to cough and Abigail held it now, in a frenzy to find something to help the child. Sticky red liquid began to cover her clothing, and as the baby flitted between bouts of coughing and wailing, she cradled it, trying desperately to soak up the blood with the towel she'd been holding while she waited for assistance. _

_Assistance never came, and the baby's noises stopped abruptly. Abigail collapsed onto the soggy ground next to Sammy's body, still clutching the baby, and felt numbness take over._

Xxx

Abigail woke in a fit, shooting up in bed and clutching her stomach. Bits of sleep still hung in the corners of her eyes, but she was too fearful to move her hands to wipe at them. Slowly, cautiously, her hand reached out to her phone which lay on her bedside table. She flipped through her contacts, careful to hide the blinding light from a still-sleeping Tara. One ring and she pulled her duvet back up to her chin. On the second ring she took a shaky breath, and by the third her eyes were shut, waiting for the one voice she knew would make her feel better.

"Hey, you've reached Sammy Lieberman. I'm not here right now, but-" The line cut out a bit, and Abigail could hear muffled laughter. Sammy laughed at the other voice, his own trailling away from the phone.

"-Cut it out, Abigail!" She could picture the moment; she had been teasing him when he made his voicemail for his new phone, making faces at him and trying to get him to laugh. She hadn't known he had kept the message. The laughter died down, and a seemingly exasperated Sammy was back on the line. She could practically hear his wide grin as he finished his message. "Leave a message and I'll call you back. Thanks!"

She stayed on the line after the phone beeped, not wanting to take the device from her ear. It had been so long since she'd heard his voice, especially in the carefree, teasing manner he frequently used on her. When she finally took her phone from her face, it was wet with the salt water of her tears. She shook them away immediately, though, wiping her eyes with her duvet. She was done being miserable.

She called another number, the second one she had in mind. This time, it only rang twice before the person on the other end picked up. They mumbled a muffled greeting, groaning at Abigail.

"What's wrong, Abigail?" Kat asked half-heartedly, pushing a thick curtain of blonde hair away from her face. She rubbed at her eyes, still covered with bits of makeup she'd been too lazy to remove the night before.

"I'm sorry I just….I had a nightmare. And I have no idea why I'm calling, but-"

"-no, it's fine. If we're going to do this whole…_friendship_thing, then I suppose I should be supportive. What was your nightmare about?" Abigail rolled over to face the wall, completely unaware of her surroundings. From the bed across from hers, Tara had woken up, looking through squinting eyes at Abigail and silently cursing her from being up at such a time.

"I dreamt about the car crash…..yeah, Sammy's…." This wasn't an unusual circumstance. Her roommate knew that Abigail suffered from these nightmares quite often, that she would never truly be over Sammy's death. Tara groaned, about to roll back over when she caught the next bit of the conversation.

"…He had the baby with him…I don't want to lose it, Kat…" This seized her attention. She didn't think she had heard right, that Sammy'd had a baby in Abigail's dream. But why was she so broken up about that?

"…No, I couldn't tell if it was a boy or a girl, why are you asking?!" She seemed angry now, upset that the conversation had turned so quickly. "…oh, alright….I guess we'll find out at the five month appointment then won't we?…"

The conversation went on for a while, Abigail rolled over to the wall while Tara was near sitting up in bed, straining her ears in order to listen. She couldn't believe what she was hearing; didn't _want _to believe it. If she was hearing things correctly then Abigail Armstrong, arguably the best ballerina of their year, was pregnant.

Abigail hung up the phone and Tara sunk back into bed, covering her face in hopes that her roommate wouldn't realize she'd been eavesdropping.

Xxx

The next morning, Tara woke up to an empty room. She sighed, shaking her head before gathering her stuff to begin the morning workout routine she'd adopted from Abigail. She wondered what had happened the night before; everything seemed like such a blur. She needed to get her thoughts straight, and fast.

After a prolonged workout, her head was still swimming. She had called Kat, but with no reply she was stuck going to breakfast alone, finding a table outside and glancing at the scenery. From a distance, she could see someone running up to her. Ben. In the intensity of her situation, she'd almost forgotten she'd had a boyfriend.

"I need to talk to you." Ben stopped in his tracks and sat across from her, a look of worry plastered immediately onto his face upon Tara's words. She laughed at him, shaking her head. "It's not about you, don't worry. It's about….Abigail."

Ben tilted his head, shooting her a questioning look. His girlfriend had bitter feelings about Abigail, he knew that. He also knew that she never let it get to her, so why would she need to be talking about the brunette?

"I think she might be pregnant."

"You're insane. She hasn't been the same since Sammy…"

"Exactly." The only noises around them were other people's conversations and the rhythm of shoes against pavement. Ben's mouth hung open. He knew what Tara was getting at, but it all seemed like suck an improbable thing…

"No way."

"I heard her on the phone last night, talking about how she 'didn't want to lose it' after talking about Sammy and a baby and…I'm just really confused."

"Confused about what?" The new voice belonged to Christian, who held his skateboard in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. He had come up to say hi to the pair-things were less awkward but still a bit touchy around his ex and her newest boyfriend.

"Nothing." Ben mimed zipping his lips, not wanting the secret to get out. If it were true it was Abigail's business, not theirs.

"Abigail might be pregnant."

"Isn't that something we'd know if she wanted us to?" Tara's boyfriend gave a sigh of relief. At least Christian agreed with him.

"I just wanted someone to talk to, you don't have to get all defensive. I'm just very confused about this."

"And what's there to be confused about? It's not your business to tell."

"Relax, Christian. Alright? I only told the two of you hoping to find someone to talk to about it." Tara pouted and grabbed her dance bag, huffing and briskly walking away from her half-eaten muffin. Grace's eyes followed her and she smirked, smug. Today was a day she felt as if the world owed her something, and she'd just gotten her payment.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9:

If she'd been paranoid before, nothing compared to the feeling of minimum twenty eyes staring at Abigail, moving along with every step or slight flinch her muscles made. Nothing was more frustrating than being the cast-out, but she was used to that. What she wasn't used to was the open comments, people spitting things at her when she walked by when she hadn't said one word to them previously. A couple of daunting first years had even attempted to make jokes, but were stopped by their older companion, who shot Abigail an apologetic look.

She wondered why everybody was acting so strange and prayed her guesses about the situation were wrong. She didn't want to be caught in this kind of dilemma, not yet. She hadn't planned for this to happen until a few months down the road. It was too soon.

Kat walked alongside her, fielding people's comments with her sassy retorts, knowing fully well that she and Abigail combined could possibly get half of these students expelled if they wanted to. By the fifth or sixth comment, Abigial stopped in her tracks, turning so that she was facing Kat with her hands on her hips.

"Did you do this?" She whisper-scolded, flames reaching the depths of her oak-colored eyes. Kat flinched and held her hands up, shaking her head vehemently.

"I didn't, I swear! I would never do anything like this to you! I mean, maybe I would've back when you were kind of a bitch, but not now."

"Then how does everybody in the world know?"

"I don't know, maybe someone overheard us? Have you been around someone else while talking about this lately? Maybe it could've slipped your mind…"

Abigail saw it. She had put her cell-phone back on her bedside table, and just as its glow was fading she caught her roommate's sheets rustling quick, just a slight movement. She scowled.

"Tara."

"What…?"

"Tara. It was her. She did it."

"How do you…" Kat paused, letting her sentence trail off. "I know you've had your differences but why the hell would she do something like that?"

"Miss Armstrong," The pair froze, the person being addressed squeezing her eyes shut for a moment hoping that when she opened them, things would go back to normal. She was sadly mistaken. A pair of low heels approached her, standing in front of her to grab her attention. "I'd like to see you in my office."

Before she could leave, Kat had a hold on Abigail's hand, squeezing it tighter than necessary.

"I'll talk to Tara for you. Good luck."

"If I make it out, I'll see you on the other side." She smiled slightly, but it was one of giving up. She knew that she was toast; the entire academy had been talking about her news, it was only a matter of time before people other than students found out. She walked the 'walk of shame' to Miss Raine's office with her head held high. She would not let these low-life students, ones who would most likely never reach the goals they were trying so desperately to hit, tear her down. No, all Abigail Armstrong could do was laugh at them in pity. Sure, she'd been to hell and back in the matter of a few months, but at least she had come close to obtaining her goal.

Her self-coaxing could not rid herself of the sting she felt as she followed Miss Raine into the room, taking a seat on a chair across a large wooden desk, waiting for her penalty.

Xxx

Kat looked everywhere for Tara, but she was nowhere to be found. She wasn't in her dorm, wasn't hanging around the patio outside. The more she looked for her auburn-haired friend, though, the more she began to suspect that she'd done it. If not Tara, then who else? She remembered the nights Tara had slept over, the countless seemingly harmless conversations they'd had bashing the pretty ballerina simply because she was better than the two of them combined and held a bit of an attitude. She remembered Tara's complete distaste, how it never wavered like Kat's did as Abigail and Sammy's relationship progressed. Sure, she was good at putting on a façade, but not good enough to fool Kat.

She remembered the look on Tara's face when she heard that Ethan was taking Abigail on vacation.

"_Why would he take _her? _She's bossy, rude, and she'll probably ruin his entire time there." Tara paced around the room, much to Kat's dismay. She'd thought that Tara had been over Ethan, that there were no hard feelings. She'd thought Tara's only problem concerning boys was choosing between Ben and Christian. Apparently she was wrong._

"_As much as you might hate it, and trust me I hate admitting it, but Abigail needs it. She's pretty broken up about…well…."_

"_I don't get that either. She barely liked him when they dated."_

"_You don't know that." The blonde was getting frustrated now. Normally, she'd be on Tara's side. She and Abigail had a rocky history, but even through that she knew how much Sammy had changed her old best friend; how much he truly meant to her. "She was always someone different around him. She wanted to be good enough for him, and he was the only one she'd listen to about nearly anything concerning herself or her attitude."_

"_So then why is she going with Ethan? If she loved Sammy so much, why is she doing this?"_

"_People deal with things in different ways, Tara. Abigail's a hell of her own emotional rollercoaster. She's using it as a distraction."_

The conversation ended there, and the two hadn't talked about Abigail until this point. Kat had finally found her, rummaging through her bag in one of the studios. She tried to be calm, but upon seeing her was struck with all of the things Tara had said about the girl in question and felt anger come back to her. She never thought she'd be on this side of the argument, vouching and fighting for Abigail, but she supposed there was a first time for everything.

"You complete…."

"What?" Tara wheeled around so that she was facing Kat, staring her down with an intensity the blonde had never seen before. Her defensive manner was enough to reveal the truth.

"I can't say it. It might be used against me when I have a secret and you're eavesdropping." She hadn't meant to use this level of harshness; it'd just come out. As soon as it did, though, Kat couldn't help but be glad for her rash attitude.

"What, so you're team Abigail now?"

"Maybe I am, although I wouldn't have to take sides if you could keep your mouth shut."

"And what, wait for her to pop? People would have found out sooner or later, Kat."

"And that was Abigail's choice to make, not yours." There was a bit of silence, Kat having exhausted a good portion of her energy by raising her voice. She'd never been so furious at someone, so incredibly upset at what was going on in her life. She'd never been so disappointed.

"…Why? Why'd you do it?"

"She doesn't deserve what she has." Tara's voice was lower now, and she sat cross-legged on the floor, gesturing for Kat to do the same. She did, and the two faced each other with squared shoulders and tense bodies. "She spent her first two years at the academy pushing us around and being terrible about it, and now she expects the world to sympathize with her because of some stupid mistake? She's going to make a big fuss over it being Sammy's baby when in reality, she never loved him."

"We're back to this again? What, did you have some secret crush on Sammy too? You can't have all of the boys in the academy, Tara. Sammy only had eyes for Abigail anyway."

"Yeah, and then he turned gay and died. Shows how much he loved her back…"

"You don't know anything, do you? Did Sammy even tell you the other half of their relationship?"

Xxx

"I've been observing your…_questionable _behavior for weeks now. I'm glad I have an answer although I can say I'm not at all happy about this. You're supposed to be the responsible one, Abigail. You're the one who is self-disciplined, who leads everybody to being the best that they can be. Is _this _the best that _you _can be?" Miss Raine gestured to her student's body, slowing down at her stomach. Abigail's head remained high and she glanced between Miss Raine and Patrick, sighing.

"How soon do my things have to be packed?" This seemed to stun the two authority figures to silence. They stared at each other, a silent conversation being held with their eyes.

"Do you have somewhere to go?"

"At the moment, no. Mum tried to make me…get rid of the baby, but I couldn't do it. It's the last piece of Sammy I have left. So she's had it with me. Dad's somewhere in Brisbane, but I haven't seen him since the divorce." Her female teacher got up from the edge of the desk and paced a bit, sighing to herself. Her years as headmaster had made her endure all kinds of situations, but never anything to this degree.

"You know how angry any bit of straying from career motivation makes me. The complete lack of focus I've seen in my days at this school have made my stomach turn. The ballet needs dedicated students, ones who will put in the time. We needs student's we'll be proud to present to the company. You're one of the top students here, Abigial. You have no idea how much this news disappoints me."

The brunette's head finally sunk, and she felt a slight bit of strain on her neck as her chin hit her chest. Sure, she'd been scolded before. Abigail had gone through years of hard training to get where she was now, but no amount of hard coaching could be worse than this moment.

"We're going to let you stay until you find a living situation, but let it be known that neither of us are currently in favor of continuing your training any farther. Our efforts need to be put out to student's with real potential, and you are no longer one of them."

Xxx

_Kat wandered into Sammy's room without knocking, plopping down on his bed and eating a piece of the sponge cake his grandmother had made. She always liked to keep it around for him, and there was no way anybody would complain at this fact; her cake was the most decadent, lovely thing she'd ever tasted._

_She watched as her friend paced, trying to gather her words. Kat stifled a laugh, plucking another piece of cake from its Tupperware container and shaking her head at him. _

"_Did I come here to watch you pace, or…."_

"_It's about Abigail." Kat sighed, moving the container of cake to the floor and laying on Sammy's bed, propping herself up on her elbows and resting her chin in her hands._

"_Oh, do continue." She teased. Sammy made a noise of protest, play-smacking Kat's shoulder._

"_This is serious!" _

"_Oh, it's serious now, is it?" Upon receiving a glare from her friend, the blonde stopped her teasings, realizing that it must be important to make Sammy not tease her back._

"_I got her something, and I need your opinion on it."_

"_Ooh! hat's it for? Anniversary? Birthday?"_

"_Haven't decided yet. Whichever's closer, I guess." He pulled a blue-black box from his dresser and Kat moved closer to the edge of the bed. When Sammy opened it, her jaw dropped._

"_Sammy, you're way to young to even…It's not that I don't…She's great to you and all…"_

"_Chill, Kat. It's not what you think it is. Does this look like an engagement ring to you?"_

_It didn't. It was simple, like a little copper wire colored silver and tied into a knot. It lay untouched in its box and Sammy looked down on it proudly._

"_My grandmother gave it to me. She said to give it to someone special, told me what it was. I wanted to try my explanation on you, see how it works…"_

xxx

After the day Abigail had, all she wanted was to go back to her room and sleep. This, however, did not sound as appealing once thought over. She still shared a room with Tara, and she'd never wanted to avoid a person more than now. Instead, she traveled the distance to Kat's room, where she wouldn't have to deal with her own roommate but could simply crash on her spare bed until she came back.

She slept until she heard the door close, could hear rustling in the room. She slowly opened her eyes to see Kat wandering around the room, putting an object into her desk drawer before moving to her computer.

"Sorry," Abigail sat up, moving the extra sheets from her body and yawning. "I didn't want to go back to my room, and-"

"It's fine. How's your sentence?" Her pregnant friend frowned. "Not good, huh?"

"As soon as I find a place to live, I have to be out of here. No more training for me, either."

"That's brutal."

"Yeah, it's been a bad day overall." Kat opted out of telling Abigail the truth about Tara; she figured it'd just be confirming very high suspicion, anyway. Instead, she tentatively moved her hand toward her desk drawer.

"I figure you could use something to cheer you up…"

"What did you have in mind?"

"Well…There's something I've been meaning to give to you for a while. It's yours by right but I had to pry it from Christian's hands." Abigail gave her a look, tilting her head.

"Christian? What's he got to do with this?" Kat decided to delay explanation and handed her the little blue box she had to hijack from Christian at the end of the year. He wasn't going to give it to Abigail, but even then the blonde knew that she had to have it. Abigail opened the box, staring at the object with a passive expression. "What's this?"

"Sammy had this whole speech written. He came to me all worried that you wouldn't like it, asking when he should give it to you and things like that. He even had this little speech prepared, the little dork." The girls laughed together, both picturing Sammy doing this. It was in his nature to make a big deal of things, and this certainly was no exception. "This was his grandma's. She gave it to him a while back to give to someone special and evidently that was you. She told him it's called a knot ring, and basically it means that 'the knot' isn't tied, but the person giving it has every intention of tying it some day."

"So…"

"He wanted to marry you, Abigail. And I know this isn't exactly cheering; I know how much you miss him and how much it hurts you every day. It hurts you more than any of us. But now, at least you know he'd give anything to be here with you"

For Abigail, having hit rock bottom that very day by the hands of her own roommate, that idea was comfort enough.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

A yellow hooded sweatshirt he loved to wear. A red lollipop to keep the morning sickness at bay. Black leggings that fit just right over her stomach which was, at nearly four and a half months, finally beginning to protrude. Her usual ballet flats had been abandoned, swapped for a pair of sneakers she wasn't particularly fond of in any other way but comfort for her aching ankles.

She stood at the row of long windows, on her toes and resting her arms on the sill. She watched as the girls dawning purple leotards worked at the barre, waiting their turn to join the boys on the floor. They looked so young, so naïve. One in particular caught her eyes, though. She looked younger than the rest, but Abigail figured it was her rounded face and big brown eyes. Her hair was atop her head in the perfect bun, an imperfect red velvet color, and she could see Mrs. Raine watching her every move, drilling her much harder than the others.

At Mrs. Raine's command the redhead straightened up, keeping her head held high and her glance cold and completely focused. She brought the girls to the center of the floor, pairing them up for their first pas de deux lesson. She watched the younger girl attempt to hide her nerves, trying to manage a smile toward her partner. Fake. Abigail could see just how hard this young girl was trying, how her efforts of hiding her clear pain were completely in vain; to her, at least. Abigail knew that the girl was not having pas de deux, that dancing by herself would be much more pleasurable for the girl.

The boy was nothing to forget, either. For everyone else he may have been, but for Abigail he was just as important to the equation as the pretty redhead. He was just a head taller than her, a bit lankier than the other boys. His hair color was an average brown, a shade or two lighter than Abigail's and on his head in a short curly half-afro. She noticed his smile, so completely genuine as he was paired up with her. He seemed ecstatic, looking at her with every admiration she'd seen all at once.

She watched the pair for the rest of their class, longing for that moment again. Abigail was drawn to them, her eyes continuing to wander back to them and gauge their expressions and reactions to everything. Was it the charisma of the boy that drew her to the pair, the way he seemed so goofy yet so willing to work for the girl he'd been partnered up with? Was it the girl, ever willing to do what it took to become someone Mrs. Raine could be proud of? It was the pair of them together, she realized, that made her stare through the window and watch them dance. It was not only her longing to dance, but the fact that this young pair reminded Abigail so much of Sammy and herself back then; unsuspectingly perfect for each other.

As Mrs. Raine wrapped up her class and students began to pour out of the classroom Abigail bent, pretending to lace up her shoes. When the pretty redhead came out of the classroom she rose, walking next to her in silence for a while.

"I'm Abigail." She finally introduced herself, holding out her hand. "You're in first year?"

"Yeah, and you're the girl that got pregnant." The redhead retorted, rolling her eyes. Through her mask, though, Abigail could see a hint of excitement. The girl knew who she was, and not just for her pregnancy. "I'm Addison."

"First day of pas de deux?"

"Yeah. It's so aggravating, my partner, Cooper, knows nothing and won't keep his hands off of me. "

"Oh you'll get used to it, trust me." Abigail smirked; this girl sounded exactly like her at that age. She had always been concerned with herself, with doing what she wanted and excelling by herself. At Addison's age, Abigail hadn't yet realized that she couldn't make it far without other people as guidance.

"I hope so. That Sammy guy…he was _your _first pas de deux partner, right?"

"He was. To be honest, I thought the same of him as you're thinking of Cooper right now. Exactly the same."

"How'd that change?" The redhead moved to the side of the hallway, where they were at a fork in their paths. She put her hands together and rubbed her fingers absent-mindedly.

"I don't really know, I guess one day I just had a change of heart. It took me a while, though. I was a _very _cold-hearted person. And to an extent I guess I still am, just in a better way than before."

"Well, it was nice to meet you Abigail. You're not half as bad as people are saying. I'll be sure to let them know that."

"Thanks," She smiled, preparing to move away from her. "It's nice to know that someone thinks that. And if you ever need help with your dancing, just ask. I'm pretty bored since I can't dance anymore."

"Will do. Thanks, Abigail!"

Xxx

Being pregnant was a far change from Abigail's previous lifestyle. Before, it was eating what her psychologist recommended, staying on track with her diet and exercise while maintaining her busy schedule with classes and workout sessions. Now, it seemed as though she had absolutely nothing to do all the time. While her friends were preparing for extra classes she was stuck in her room, sorting through her stuff while looking apprehensively through baby name websites. It seemed like she was talking on the phone constantly, to the doctor recommended when she had gotten out of her abortion.

When her five month appointment was made and a few baby books were read through, she'd completely run out of things to do.

A few short weeks later Abigail and Kat were walking the short distance to the doctor, enjoying the wonderful weather while catching up about what they'd been doing. Well, it only took Abigail a few minutes. For Kat it was less simple.

Classes were tougher, more rigorous. Now that it was third year what seemed like the large margin of classmates they had was dropping like flies, one after another and sometimes more than two in one day. Through that, though, Kat and Tara were among those who remained tough enough to keep their positions as third year dancers. Abigail found out that her calls from the company were now going with less vigorous need to a more average girl, about Tara's skill level in dance but painfully shy. She couldn't say that she was upset, though, because it had been her choice in the first place. As long as it wasn't Tara receiving her calls, she was happy for the girl who'd been chosen in her place as the new favorite.

Abigail was the youngest one in the office, surrounded by some thirty-something women and their husbands or children, and it felt awkward. She didn't let it get to her, though. She'd always been early and more eager to do things anyway, she could count this as another one of her personality traits gone a bit wrong. She leafed through a magazine but did not pay attention to its contents, simply scanning the pictures of pretty houses and adorable babies, of beautiful pregnant woman with seemingly flawless baby-tummies. She looked down at her own subconsciously, studying its shape. It was still a bit smaller than it should be, she knew that much, but it was still round enough for her. From the little she'd picked up in books, she guessed that it was alright for where she was.

The doctor, a pretty woman around her early thirties, confirmed Abigail's thoughts. As she measured and weighed she mumbled, making little notes in her folder before looking up at her, eyes shining.

"You're looking great, Abigail! Could be a bit heavier, but gaining the baby weight slow is good for you too. Very good results so far." Kat, Abigail and her doctor, Julie, were standing in the doorway to the examination room, Julie going through her notes to double-check everything. "Would you like to see your baby now?"

Abigail nodded, hesitant as she walked slowly behind her two companions into the room. Kat took a chair and her pregnant friend sat on the table next to it, checking out her surroundings. It was similar to the first office she'd been to, only this time she didn't feel as though she were going to die herself. She didn't feel like she wanted to run or hide from these tools, and when Julie put the cool blue liquid on her stomach she barely flinched. She was more than ready for this moment.

"Now before I get started, I just have one question." Julie said, hovering the wand over Abigail's stomach. "Do you want to know the gender of your baby yet?"

It took a while to formulate a response to this question. On one hand, knowing the gender of her child would make it easier to shop and pick out a name. On the other, having the gender be a surprise would be something to look forward to; something to keep her sane in the days she spent waiting for something to do.

"I don't want to know yet." Looking over she saw Kat breathe a sigh of relief, giving Abigail a thumbs up for her decision.

Something was nagging at Kat with the gender situation. For some reason, she wanted nothing more than for Abigail to have a little boy. She knew how much it would mean to her; the boy would seem closer to Sammy, a greater link to him. On the other hand, she desperately wanted a girl for Abigail. While she knew how much a baby boy would mean to Abigail and Sammy, she feared that the baby would look too much like Sammy, and instead of bringing Abigail joy, that it would only bring her heartache. With feelings so conflicted, she wasn't yet ready to see which outcome would come true.

The girls watched as the doctor rubbed the wand on Abigail's stomach, pausing only at a grey bit of the image both could immediately identify. Kat looked to her friend, who was simply staring at the screen, her eyes watering the slightest. Abigail swallowed a lump in her throat, pointing to the screen.

"Is that the head?" She asked, watching in awe as the baby moved slightly inside of her. She couldn't believe that she was finally seeing what was inside of her.

_It's ours, Sammy._ Abigail twirled the ring on her left finger, letting her finger rub along the knot in it for both comfort and the feeling that he was there. She let the first lone tear fall, but this time it was a happy tear. She couldn't stop looking at the screen, the combination of she and Sammy she knew she would love so much.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

"Where are we going?" Abigail asked, sighing and holding her hands out in front of her in case of a fall. She was wearing her night eyemask, and the fur on its outside was beginning to tickle her face in a rather uncomfortable way. She groaned as Kat instructed her to step over something but she complied. The chirping of birds once heard was replaced by her blonde friend removing the blindfold.

She was in front of a staircase with dark wood, and she stared over to Kat. Other than the staircase there was really nothing, the landing short of spectacular with a vase of fake flowers and a pretty white-gold chandelier. Kat nudged her, shaking her head.

"No we're not there yet. Almost, actually, I just couldn't have you climbing those stairs in a blindfold. I'm not trying to kill you, I promise." So Abigail ascended the stairs, and Kat put her blindfold back on. The blonde was mumbling, and then the brunette heard the jingling of keys, the light metallic click as they opened a lock. She was instructed to take her shoes off, and when she did she was met with slightly cold hardwood floor. Kat took her blindfold off, and she was confused at what she saw.

They were standing in an apartment unit, on the second or third floor (the stair climbing was sort of a blur to her, now). Hardwood flooring was spread throughout most of it, but in what looked like the living area it was covered with a thick, fluffy looking white carpet. Kat walked around, throwing her keys on the counter in the kitchenette and watching as Abigail wandered around. There were three bedrooms; two average sized and one a bit smaller, plus one bathroom that seemed roomy for an apartment. She stopped at a white sectional back in the living area and sat, staring at her surroundings. Kat approached slowly, not sure of what to say before eyeing the couch along with Abigail.

"I told Natasha we'd have to change the color of the couch; the white won't be good with a baby around." Her friend merely stared back at her, unsure of what to say. In short, she was confused.

"Wait, what?"

"Unless you like the white, then we can keep it around for a while…" Still confused. Kat laughed, grinning. "This is ours!"

"Wait, it's _ours? _As in this _apartment_ is ours?" In response all Kat could do was widen her grin and nod vigorously before Abigail had launched herself at her for a hug. "You can't be serious!"

"But I am. Natasha's owed me too many favors down the line to decline my latest request. Besides, when I told her your story she was very…moved." The blonde rolled her eyes, still smiling. "Apparently she was inspired by your courage and there was something in there about family being the most important thing…I don't know, I stopped paying attention after she said yes. I know consulting you first would have been a good idea, but this place was just calling for us to move in."

"It's absolutely perfect. There's room for everything, it's beautiful…but how are we going to afford rent?"

"Mum's got that covered, too. Apparently she's actually wanting to help out for once."

Abigail could not believe what she was hearing. Soon, she would be out of the academy and in her own apartment, with a house key and chores and a fridge to fill. She'd have to paint the nursery and get things ready…it was all happening so fast. Kat was giddy, though, and that seemed to radiate into the walls of their new apartment. Soon, Abigial's worries were simply faded away, replaced with the promise of a new home.

Xxx

She walked slowly, her gait lessened by the wagon of bags and boxes she was towing. Few faces stopped to chat. Most simply stared as the academy's top ballerina prepared to make the move away from the only life she'd ever known. It was nostalgic, this moment. Abigail walked the halls she'd once felt she ruled as if she were a complete stranger. She no longer looked through the high, rectangular windows; it would only make this moment more melancholy. Right now, Abigail knew that she should be focusing on the positive. She was moving to a nice apartment, much bigger and more private than her dorm room, and allowing more freedom as well. She would be away from the girl who'd so willingly given away her deepest secret, with someone who actually cared about her and wanted to give their friendship another shot. The best part of the situation, though, was the new life she'd be welcoming in less than three months.

At this point in her life, Abigail couldn't be sure if she was excited or not. Sure, she was becoming increasingly happy about the baby, but the prospect of being a young mother terrified her to no end. Everything, she realized, would be up to her; what he or she ate, how they lived…each decision she made would not only be for her own benefit, but for the baby's. She would be the sole caregiver of another life, the responsibility Abigail turned her nose up at when she was a little girl. There were still major decisions to be made as well.

"I really think you should give them a call." Kat prodded, pushing her own cart of things to be moved out. Abigail scoffed, rolling her eyes. This was an issue her new roommate had been bugging her about for months.

"Are you serious? They didn't care much for Sammy…well, I guess they did when he was doing things their way, or after he died. Will they really be happy or even care about his baby, especially when we're both so young?"

"Just think of it in the way you've been explaining it to people, Abbi."

"And how's that…?"

"This baby is the last piece of Sammy we have. Anybody would be lucky to be part of his…or her, life."

"I guess you're right." Abigail sighed, hauling her last bag into their moving van. "But that doesn't make the situation any less awkward."

"Abigail!" The girl being called turned around to face the same bright eyed freshman she'd been watching from the previous day, the one who'd reminded her so much of herself.

"Addison, how are you?"

"You're moving?" The redhead went straight for the subject matter, skipping formal greetings and awkward catch-ups. That was another thing that made the pair so much alike. Abigail explained her situation, and where she'd be moving. She knew she didn't _have _to; this girl was younger than her and they'd only known each other for a while, but she _wanted _to. It was nice to have another friend in a world where she'd been so lonely. "That sucks. Well, not the fact that you're finally getting out of here, but that you couldn't dance your last few months."

"That's life, I guess." Abigail replied, shrugging her shoulders. Suddenly, Addison's eyes lit up.

"You should come check out my mum's daycare! I mean, just for kicks. It's a really good place, and if you ever needed to work I'm sure my mum'd be more than happy to hire you. You wouldn't have to pay daycare, but you'd still be working near your baby!" She was talking incredibly fast for any human being, nearly bouncing up and down in excitement of the prospect. The brunette nodded, mulling the situation over. She couldn't take a completely free ride from Natasha, even if she wanted to. They'd have to pay for groceries, anyway; groceries and items for the baby. Thinking about it more made her realize that the situation wouldn't be half as bad as it sounded.

"I'll have to stop by sometime, thanks." She began to walk away, but as Kat shut the door to their moving van Addison held her hands up.

"Wait! I have a favor to ask you." Abigail stopped, waiting for her new friend to continue. "I was thinking about trying for a solo in our next piece, and I was wondering if you could help me look through some possible options, coach me so I'm doing it the best I can. Normally I wouldn't admit my need for help, but you understand more than anyone how much ballet can mean."

"Yeah, I get that. I'd love to help you, just call when you need me. It'll be pretty boring while Kat's at classes anyway." The two shared a grin before parting ways. If Abigail couldn't dance, maybe this would be her way to contribute to the world of ballet.

Xxx

"I was wondering…no, that sounds dumb."

Abigail paced through she and Kat's apartment. It was a week after their move, but full boxes still hung around the apartment. The two were far too lazy to do anymore, but with Kat in classes this was supposed to be Abigail's surprise for when she got home. She, however, was having trouble with it too. Her mind was elsewhere, on the other task she'd have to complete.

"I just wanted to say…" She shook her head again, groaning. Rehearsing what she was going to say wasn't going so well, and it pained her. She couldn't simply come up with the words, and it seemed they were stuck, lodged in her brain and unable to form into a complete sentence. She moved through the stacks of boxes to pick her cellphone up from the kitchen counter, leaning against it as she thought her situation over. Without a second thought, she called the number that'd been left tacked to the fridge with a magnet. As the phone rang, she drummed her fingers against the counter, a nervous habit she hadn't realized she'd picked up until the pregnancy. The person on the other line picked up by the second ring, calling out a cheerful greeting.

"Hello, is this Mrs. Lieberman?"

"Yes, it is. Who may I ask is calling?"

"This is Abigail Armstrong. I.." She had to pause for a moment to collect her breath, the oxygen going to her head to try to sort out her thoughts. "I went to school with your son Sammy. Well, I dated Sammy. For a long time."

"Abigail…Are you the Abbi in our Sammy's phone who keeps calling?"

"Yes, I'm sorry about that. It's just…sometimes I just need to hear his voice, it makes me feel better." She heard an agreeing mumble on the other side of the phone, and she assumed that his mother understood. She was, after all, the mother of a son who had been taken from her too soon. Of all people she would have to understand.

"So, may I ask why you're calling, Abigail?"

"Would you be willing to meet me somewhere to talk? I don't feel very comfortable talking about it on the phone."

Mrs. Lieberman agreed, and the two exchanged cordial salutations while they prepared to meet later on for coffee. Only Abigail knew how different the situation could be, how it could either escalate or go passive with only a few simple words.

"I'm pregnant. With your son's child." The girl's voice was soft, and she watched her ice cubes swirl in her cup as she stirred her iced tea, looking anywhere but the older woman.

"With Sammy's…but, how?"

"It was the night before he…passed. It was the second time we dated, but this time seemed different. The first time we weren't really ready for a serious relationship, but this time we both sort of knew that things were different. A good kind of different, that is." Sammy's mother watched as the girl in front of her revealed her secret, retelling her relationship with the son she barely saw before he died. He was busy dancing, yes, but somehow he'd found time to be with this girl when things didn't work out the first time. She was jealous, almost, of this girl who'd gotten to spend so much time with him. It was as though she wanted to take everything back, to have never enrolled Sammy in the academy just so she could have a few more precious moments with him. And who was this girl, this stunning brunette with silky brown hair, to tell her that her son had done something so adult when he still seemed like a baby to her?

Abigail was special. It took one look at the girl's left hand to realize that. There, on that hand, was her mother's knot ring, the one she'd passed down to Sammy to give to someone special. This was the girl who'd have ended up being her daughter-in-law, who would have ended up with Sammy's baby anyway.

"I suppose this is a blessing, then." She reached for Abigail's hand and admired the ring she hadn't seen in a while, remembering its texture and the way it used to fit on her mother's hand. It was a perfect match to this younger girl, with her stomach protruding slightly from her coral colored shirt. Abigail got nervous, though, beginning to pull the ring from her finger.

"I'm sorry, Kat said that Sammy meant to give it to me. She didn't mean to take it without asking you first, but he wanted me to have it." Mrs. Lieberman chuckled, putting her hand over the girl's to tell her to put the ring back on.

"I believe you, Abigail. You know, Sammy was very lucky to have a bright girl like you."

"Thank you, Mrs. Lieberman."

"And we'd be lucky to have you too, if you'll let us. I'd really like to get to know my grand…"

"We don't know the gender yet."

"Well, my grandchild then." She smiled and Abigail chuckled in spite of herself. She was glad to know that no matter what her own mother said, at least the baby would be growing up with one loving set of grandparents. Being approved by Sammy's parents, too, meant the world.

**a/n: my first author's note in eleven chapters...I'm pretty pleased with myself:)**

**I just wanted to say thank you for all of your kind reviews. I haven't had the chance to thank you personally in a while, but I really do appreciate what you've been saying. To the questions concerning the gender of the baby, I have a proposition: I've been teetering back and forth between which gender the baby will be, because both clearly have their ups and downs for Abigail and the story. So I was wondering, if I posted some sort of survey with random questions and made my own rules about which answer would correspond to which gender, would you take it for me? I'm going to make it random so the system can't be purposely done because I want this to be as random as possible. Just shoot me a message if you'll do it (or better yet, leave it in a review!:) Thank you so much, and I hope you keep reading!**

**~Danielle**


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Without dance in her life, Abigail realized just how dull of a person she truly was. Unlike her 'normal' peers in 'normal' school, she didn't have free time to fill with useless hobbies she'd never truly use. The first day of her house sentence, Abigail attempted to paint a picture to hang in their currently drab living area. She found quickly that she really was no good at art; drawing, painting, or even playing with clay. She gave that up and turned to attempting to knit, which turned into an utter failure. Abigail Armstrong liked to believe that she was born without patience, and attempting to knit only clarified that thought. She kept messing up, and each time her hands would slip she would groan louder until an hour later, after multiple drops of the yarn, she threw it across the room in a fit of hormonal rage. Hobbies, clearly, were _not _her thing.

She took the time she now had to shop, scouring stores for small things she could get for her baby. Without a job she only had a bit in her savings to spend, and she intended to use it on the person that mattered most to her. She soon became frustrated with even shopping, the things she was looking through never really catching her eye. It was one of her personal rules that she had to be drawn to something to buy it; it had to stand out to her, and it had to be something she truly felt as though she couldn't live without. Nothing fit this criteria to her now.

Xxx

Back at the academy, things were moving at the tortoise-slow pace they always seemed to be at. The earth was not shattered by Abgail's news, much as everybody thought it would be. Classes went on as usual. Without Abigail to compete with, however, the students were getting lazy. They were still good, better than most of the dancers their age. They had gotten into the academy for a reason, after all. Soon, people came to the realization that they didn't have to work as hard to be on Abigail's level. Hell, they didn't have to push themselves at all. Without the pretty brunette there to show them up, it was as if they had been given a long-term vacation from themselves.

Busy class schedules did not mean that students had to say goodbye to all of their time, and this was spent chatting and catching up with each other. The time they had off was often used to talk about what had happened; where they guessed Abigail had gone when she was not attending the academic classes she was still permitted to take. When put into simpler terms, this time was spent gossiping.

"I heard her mother kicked her out of her house." A rowdy first year supplied, her loud voice an obnoxious soprano, much higher than the rest of the group. There was some chatter, and then another voice broke the mold.

"I heard that she's with her dad, in Brisbane. I heard she's going to be traveling with him like some sort of rock star." There were some murmured agreements accompanied by louder protests. As hard as this group tried, they could not come up with an honest answer.

"Do you really want to know what happened?"

In the world of the teenager, input like this would normally be disregarded. The person asking to talk was not part of their group, and had clearly been eavesdropping much to the dismay of the other teenagers. Depending on who was talking, this comment could end in a whole other argument. This person though, was Tara Webster, and while she was known for her various flings with the academy's boys, she was also Abigail's roommate in her time at the academy. If anybody would know the truth, it would be her. The first years nodded eagerly, staring up at Tara with curious eyes. She sat with them, at the head of their table, and began.

"She tried to make a whole big deal out of the fact that the baby is Sammy's-Sammy Lieberman that is, the one who died last year before the prix. She tried to play the pity card but it just didn't work all the way on Mrs. Raine, who'd had it with her at that point."

Another pair of feet walked down the hallway, but stopped upon hearing Tara's voice. The feet hid around the corner, wanting to catch more of the story she was telling to the group of clearly fascinated first years.

"Mrs. Raine apologized and said she had to leave, but Abigail threw a bit fit and pretended to quit first. _Big _diva."

"So where's she living now?"

"Nobody knows that part. She's possibly on the streets, begging for money and using the baby as another excuse. I mean, we all know that she had no friends here anyway." The feet, their owner ticked off by what they were hearing, stepped out of the corner. They moved at a slightly faster pace to get behind where Tara was standing. While she talked, the first year's eyes moved from her to the figure, and they began to talk and point.

"That story's bullshit and you know it, Tara Webster."

Xxx

By the fourth store Abigail was at, she was completely exhausted. Blue lollipop in her mouth, she scanned the aisles of the baby store in complete disinterest, picking up random items and pretending to examine them while her feet seemed to scream in protest. She'd made a list of things she'd like the baby to have, things that would look good in the nursery. She'd already gotten the baby-proofing things, that was the easiest step. Now she was stuck choosing between styles for the nursery, sorely regretting her decision to keep her child's gender a surprise.

As she shopped, lollipop in mouth, she began to tune into the conversations around her. She found distraction in the form of a familiar voice, masculine as it laughed along with a voice she did not recognize. The voice of his companion was light, like the tinkling of bells. Something about the companion voice, though, made it ring dissonant in her mind. As she turned the corner toward the voices, she discovered why.

The masculine voice belonged to her father. She hadn't seen him in years, but he still wore the same smug grin she was used to seeing on him. His wardrobe had changed quite a bit, however. He'd traded in his old sweaters and grass-stained jeans for a pair of khakis and a dress shirt. He pushed a cart full of baby items, and on his arm was a young woman, thin and beautiful in an obnoxious sort of way. Her blonde hair fell unnaturally to her waist in a pin-straight manner, and even her pale blue eyes seemed to be full with an air of façade.

Abigail wasn't sure if she should run, hide, or do both simultaneously. She didn't want her father to see her like this, and as much as she disagreed with her mother right now she knew that this would make Althea look worse in her father's eyes, make him glad he had left her for this tiny blonde Barbie doll. Her efforts to hide did not go unnoticed, though, and soon she was joined by two other people with nothing to do but greet them in a fake yet cordial way.

"What happened to _you?"_ Her father asked after awkward greetings were thrown around. He hadn't even introduced the blonde that had stopped with him, now standing uncomfortably as the two talked.

"What does it look like?" She shot back, resting her elbows on the handle of her shopping cart. Clearly, her father wasn't dumb enough to not realize that she was pregnant. Abigail was giving him a hard time merely because she could, because she figured he deserved it after leaving her mother.

"So….where are you living now?"

"A nice place."

"With the boyfriend?" "He's in his grave now, dad." Her father nodded, unsure of what to say. He hadn't seen his teenaged daughter since the incident; she'd been so busy with school that he figured she couldn't visit him. Now, he knew that school wasn't the reason she wasn't visiting. Pregnancy was one reason, sure, but she was also incredibly bitter about the divorce. Her attitude proved that she wasn't happy with the current situation, and wanted nothing to do with him.

"Listen…" Her father moved closer to her and lowered his voice, most likely so that his Barbie of a companion wouldn't hear. "Maybe I shouldn't have been so quick to leave your mother. You're clearly having major problems adjusting. I'd really like to help out with the baby, if you'd have me. I don't agree with the fact that you're pregnant at all, but I would like to help."

"Oh, so I have to go and do something everybody deems stupid to get noticed? You know what, I'm fine with it. As for the help…I'll think about it."

Xxx

Tara spun around at the voice, her jaw dropping slightly at who she saw. Dressed casually in a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, his arms were crossed across his chest in a dominating manner. The first years stared up at him in awe, but Tara seemed to have no reaction whatsoever. After she set her dropped jaw back in place she stared back at him, passive.

"Yeah, and how do _you _know it's bullshit? Or are you just standing up for your dear Abi?" The slightest red hue came upon Ethan's cheeks, but he cleared them quickly. He was used to fielding his feelings, after a break of hiding them so well.

He had taken Abigail on vacation with him to be sure that she was alright with what had happened. He knew that at home, she'd be spending most of her time traveling to the studio to keep her skills up. With nobody to talk to, he figured her emotions would be doing all sorts of strange things, and although they had an awkward past he couldn't let her get into any trouble because of her grieving. It started as a simple trip; two people who had tried to date but failed because of their similarities. They both had too much passion for their art, were too involved in perfecting themselves. Neither had time for a serious relationship-or, that's what Ethan had thought.

He knew that she was over him. He could tell by the way she handled encounters that he thought completely awkward and embarrassing; like they were normal occurrences. When _he _was put into these situations, however, he was sent back to their very short romantic encounter. She'd been the one to test it, kissing him before going on stage, making sure their relationship was 'strictly professional.' Some time after that she'd gone back to Sammy, but he'd never truly been healed of his overwhelming feelings for her. He was hoping that Barcelona would settle things once and for all, and in a way they had. Barcelona just didn't settle his feelings in the way he would've liked them to.

But Tara was acting immature. She was spreading all sorts of rumors, and even though he wasn't sure if all of them were false, he knew that she was simply trying to tear Abigail down. Maybe it was because she wasn't over him, maybe because of the way Abigail treated her during their first year of classes. Nothing, however, made it alright.

"We all know you're just spreading rumors because you're desperate to be the 'popular' one at this school. We know you're trying to be the third year favorite, but that'll never happen. Third year favorite isn't just handed to someone, they have to work for it. Abigail worked for it, and you're just jealous that she got what you wanted even though you never really tried for it. You were too busy chasing after all of the guys in the academy." "That's not true."

"It is true, Tara. You've become just as bad as Abigail was during her first year here, but you know what I think it is? I think it's jealousy. You're upset that Kat's gone and chosen Abigail, you're angry that she managed to find love before you even though you were floating around boys too fast to try to fall into it. You're trying to make Abigail the person she was before Sammy but you know that you can't."

It didn't pain Ethan to mention Sammy in such a good light, didn't set any sort of pang or particularly tight knot in his stomach. Although he still had feelings for Abigail, he couldn't forget about the guy who had made her the person he'd become fond of. He couldn't forget that she was pregnant with his child, that he had to throw his mass of feelings behind for her. He couldn't flirt with her, couldn't do anything that would make her uncomfortable. She didn't need a boyfriend, not now and possibly not for years. She needed a friend, and that's what he'd be willing to give her.

"So now you know the truth. If you ever need to know more, don't go running to Tara…she clearly knows nothing. Go to Kat, that's who Abigail is living with now. She's fine and healthy as far as I know, so you can all stop gossiping about her for a while and go back to your dancing."

**a/n: Thank you once again for all of your lovely reviews. I feel as though I can't say it enough, especially to those of you who are doing it every chapter; you're going above and beyond what I ever thought I would get for this story, especially since this show has a very small fanbase compared to the other shows I've written for:) For those of you who said you'd take the survey, it's right here at survey monkey dot com slash s/GSPB9S7**

**I'm letting you know right now that these questions are completely utterly random. I tried to make them the least bit conformed to boy/girl type answers as possible. Thank you again!**


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Kat sat In the courtyard outside of the studio, her dance bag carelessly placed beside her. On her lap she balanced a notebook, but she only used the pen in hand to make markings next to a previously written list of names. She talked slowly and sweetly to somebody on the phone, using her persuasive voice until she could put a check with their name.

She had been at this task for about an hour, and was glad to see that she was making gradual progress on the list, almost all the way to its end. For some people on the list she had to ask around for their phone number, feigning every excuse in the book so that she could ask them their question. What she was doing was supposed to be a total surprise, and she intended to keep it that way until the day it was planned to happen.

Kat was planning a baby shower, a little something so that Abigail would know that people genuinely cared about her over the gossip and their slightly crude mannerisms toward her. The blonde had calmly (although she was losing patience) told every person invited that they had to put away their differences for this day, to make sure that it would be something that Abigail would remember in a positive light. She wanted to make sure that people knew the baby was a good thing, someone the pretty (and now very pregnant) brunette was now proud of and excited to meet.

xxx

It had taken Abigail a while to get to this point. Well, not literally. In a literal, direction-wise sense, it had only taken her about fifteen minutes to get from the apartment to this building. In the sense of her state of mind, however, it felt as though it had been a rough journey to get where she was in the moment.

In a matter of months, Abigail felt as though she was truly growing with the child inside of her. While her baby was developing organs, she was developing her own thoughts. She went from not wanting the baby to never wanting to let it go, to making sure she was constantly healthy and at a stable weight not for herself, but for her child. For the girl who had spent so long thinking that she was the only thing in the world that mattered, it was a big difference to feel her thoughts slowly shifting the other way. She was no longer thinking about what people said for her own benefit, but for the benefit of her child. She was taking notes, making tabs of the people who weren't there for her. She made sure she would remember the people who called the baby names, who talked scornfully and harshly about nothing more than a mere child, not even able to see the light of a world outside of her mother's womb yet. Abigail knew that she wouldn't forget the people who already had opinions about someone who couldn't yet form words, and with that couldn't have made the choice of who their mother was even if they had wanted to.

Her location was something of the same matter. She never thought she'd be there, like her thoughts, but she knew that being where she was would be a good decision in the long-run. She stood in front of a simple white building, almost looking as though it were from a fairy-tale with older, more ornate decorations in its structure. The sign indicating what the building held was covered in butterflies, caterpillars, and colorful handprints. Abigail took a breath, put a smile upon her nervous face, and knocked cautiously on the door. Even from outside of the building she could hear its inner activity; giggling, shouting, and chattering voices, all tiny and some with broken-up speech. She felt her nerves begin to float away.

A taller woman opened the door, smiling brightly at Abigail and greeting her in a kind, gentle voice. Her auburn hair reached just to her chin, which seemed to accentuate her bright blue eyes and soft facial features as it framed them.

"Hi, I'm Abigail Armstrong. I was referenced to this school by a friend whose mother works here?"

"That would be me." The woman answered, shutting the door behind her and turning back toward her classroom. "I'm Sheila Lochte, Addison's mother. Here, take a seat so we can talk." Sheila gestured toward a blue chair, low to the ground, and Abigail took it. The class watched curiously as this strange woman sat to talk to their teacher, who gave the pretty brunette paper after paper while explaining things. Abigail listened, but her attention wandered often to the children, who were trying their best to pay attention to her. They were young, all around two years old. They toddled around her, smiling, until one was brave enough to come toward her.

She was smaller than the rest, but seemed more outgoing. Her hair, the few that she had, was a sandy brown color and secured at the top of her head in a single short ponytail. She waddled up to Abigail and looked at her with big blue eyes, grinning and showing off her tiny teeth.

"And who are you?" The older woman asked during a break in her conversation with Sheila. The toddler was not shy, but rather very outgoing. In a loud voice, she replied that her name was Sydney. Abigail giggled in spite of herself and held out her hand for a high five. The girl, taking the signal the wrong way, heaved herself right upon her lap, making herself comfortable.

"Syd, this is Abigail. She's a ballerina just like Addie." Abigail watched as more of the children's eyes were trained on her. Hearing that she was a ballerina, she thought, must've put her in an even brighter light for the young kids. Soon more came around her, and the older ones who could speak better began to ask her question after question. Sheila laughed and watched as Abigail handled things, trying to answer all of their questions and give each child equal time with her.

She spent the rest of her day at the school, although she only intended to stay for an hour or so. She helped with the program, with cleaning and playing with the children. At the end of the day, Sheila sat her down, a serious look upon her beautiful yet motherly features.

"When the baby is born, we'd really like it if you would work with us. I think you're good with the kids, and they really need someone younger to keep up with them. You're talented from what I've seen today, and I really think you could've found something to replace ballet. Well not to replace it, but to fill that void-keep you busy."

Abigail was stunned. Throughout her day at the school, working alongside Sheila, nothing had been a real challenge to her. She didn't notice that she'd been succeeding because she realized that she hadn't been hell-bent on it. She hadn't gone in thinking about success or failure; Sheila hadn't once used the word disappointed or told her to try harder. She hadn't been pushed to do the things she was doing, and when she made a mistake she was corrected in a nice, calm voice. She felt an elation similar to once she felt when doing ballet, but this one held a softer meaning, glowed in such a way that it stayed with her the entire way home. She couldn't stop thinking about the kids, about how fun they were to be around and how her next visit would be something she truly wanted to do. Abigail had never felt this way about ballet. Maybe being a mother was truly something of fate, something she wouldn't have realized she was good at because she was previously very opposed to it. Now, however, she couldn't wait to begin her own motherhood.

Xxx

When she arrived home it was dark, unusual for this time of night. Usually, she and Kat would have dinner together before the blonde had to go to extra classes. Now, however, the hallways leading to the apartment were quiet. She could not hear Kat's music blasting as loud as the neighbors would allow, could not smell the sweet aroma of her baking. It was a strange occurrence, but Abigail decided to think nothing of it. With third year exams coming up, the ballerinas would be up to their elbows in complete and utter stress, piled on from every direction and teacher imaginable. It was not all that fun of a time, but making it past meant that everybody was one step closer to the company and the weaker ballerinas were gone and no longer distracting.

Normally the two would tell each other when their schedules changed, but she thought nothing of it; she herself had gotten hung up at the school, and it _was _a stressful time for both of them. Along with third year exams for Kat (and Abigail's academic exams), the baby was due to come in a month or so. With things becoming so hectic, it was no surprise that they'd both forgotten to call the other.

The actual surprise came when she flicked the light on in their apartment. As light flooded its empty spaces, so did the cheers of around twenty people. Some clapped, others simply smiled and waved at her. Kat was the first to really talk, coming from the center of the group to hug her friend. At this point in time, all of the awkward feelings from their past were completely erased. There was not a single trace of bad vibes between them, only the same level of closeness they'd obtained when they were five years old and playing house together.

"I wanted to throw this party to say congratulations to Abigail, and to let her know that we all love her and support her. Plus, a baby shower is something you have to have." Abigail chuckled at her friend, who was introducing the party to her while playing hostess. She was quite good at it too, shuffling from person to person and making sure that everything was alright.

Abigail recognized a great number of students from the academy, people she'd talked to maybe twice in all of her days there. She found it nice that they were there, so willing to support her. Addison was there too, sat on the couch chatting with Benjamin Tickle. Paige ran up to her, hugging her tight before Abigail even realized who she was. When she did, however, she hugged back with just as much force.

"I've missed you, Paigey!"

"Kat came and picked me up at dad's. He said he wanted to come but didn't know if he'd be very welcome after your run-in at the store with him and Georgie."

"Oh, the girlfriend?"

"She's alright, Abbi. She _looks _like she's not, but she's actually really nice. Nicer than mum has been, at least. If you think about it, as much as it really hurts, they're better off without each other." Abigail merely shook her head, letting a small smile break through what had been a frown at the mention of her father. Of everybody in her family, Paige was the one she missed the most after being away so long. She had hated having to imagine what she was going through; thirteen and no big sister to talk to about her problems. She seemed fine, though, and Abigail was filled with pride for her younger sister. She had matured to a point that was much beyond her years, understanding things like the divorce in a manner she knew she hadn't thought of, unable to get past the bitter feelings that still lingered when it was mentioned.

From behind Paige she could see an old friend, someone she'd had an incredibly hard relationship with. They'd been friends, but their friendship was fueled by their intense passion to win at any costs. She was like the old Abigail, ignored when she'd grown out of that phase. She didn't know if her old friend remained in that phase, but seeing her again brought feelings of anger as well as remorse; of wanting back what they'd once had even though it seemed terrible.

Grace Whitney had been Abigail's first friend at the academy. Well, friend was an overstatement. They'd been…partners in crime, a duo who liked nothing more than to climb to the top of the pyramid at any cost. Now, Grace sat on the couch in her apartment sipping on soda and looking around, watching others converse with each other.

"You're here too?" She asked, sitting down next to the blonde with some effort from her now larger body. Grace looked over and smiled, a sort of smaller, weakened expression. She shrugged, taking another sip of her drink. "Not that I mind, I mean it's great to see you again."

"I chose Sydney, I wanted to stay close to everybody. I know what I did was horrible-"

"-Not to be _that person, _but _everything _you did was horrible. Then again, I was horrible too."

"I just wanted to be around people who were nice to me when nobody else was. And I know toward the end of last year we weren't really civil to each other, but I wanted to apologize for that too. I just…I wanted people to like me so badly, and in those few weeks we were really good friends, I thought it was because we were both being mean to everybody else. I guess I was wrong there. I'm just hoping that you can forgive me and give me another chance, I'd really like to try and be your real friend this time." Throughout Grace's mini-speech she looked straight at Abigail, playing with her hands in her lap. Her shoulders were slumped submissively, like a white flag going up over a ship. She was truly sorry, had practically begged Kat on her knees to come. She wasn't the only one, although it seemed easier for Abigail to forgive Grace than it was to stand civilly in front of Tara Webster.

"Having you gone from the academy has made me realize what a pain in the ass everybody else is. There's no competition, nobody as good as you to push me to work hard. I don't know why I did the things I did, but I know that they were wrong." Abigail couldn't tell if Tara was lying or telling the truth, but hearing what she said seemed to let a little anger boil in her stomach. How would it be fair to let Tara apologize so quickly, when things had turned from alright to worse in a matter of seconds because of her? How would that make things alright for her?

"Is that all you have? After what you said about me and the baby and Sammy? About how he had no real feelings for me?"

"For now it is, Abigail. I can't think of anything to say that'd be good enough for a real apology. But until I think of something a little better I just want you to say 'ok.' That's all. Just say that you'll wait for me to sort out whatever's going on with my mind that's made me say these things because I don't know what it is and it scares me, it truly does."

One thing getting pregnant made Abigail learn was that she had to grow up. In a literal sense, she was fine for her age; eighteen and tall enough, heavy enough for her pregnancy. With the way her mind worked, though, she knew that she had to become more mature before she could mother a child. If _she _wasn't mature, then how could she expect the same from her baby? If she wasn't calm, wasn't willing to accept people for who they were, then why should her child?

Tara had done everything wrong to Abigail. Grace had screwed a lot of people over in her times. Hell, Abigail had even caused her share of damage. They were girls, there would always be drama between them no matter what happened or how much they matured. There would always be something annoying about another, or something they didn't like. The fact the brunette forced herself to learn, however, was that things like this could be controlled if a person truly wanted to change, and with a baby change was something she _needed _to do. Seeing past Tara's flaws was one thing, but seeing past her own was another.

Abigail was judgmental. She was rude, a bit bossy, and had something within her that made her bitterness continually come into her life. Throughout the past eight months, however, she learned these things about herself, worked to change them. She smiled more, didn't over think things or let them get into her head. She tried to pull her reigns back a bit, let other people take control when her pregnant body disabled her from doing the things she wanted. Most of all, she learned that to be a happy person was to forgive other people for what they had done. The weight of her many grudges seemed to come off of her all at once then, in the middle of her party as she embraced Tara and Grace simultaneously, forgiving them for what they had done to her. Things would be put in the past now, where their older selves would be looked back on with chuckling and many shaking heads.

Abigail sat in the armchair of their living space, twenty or so friends around her. And as she unwrapped their gifts, she finally felt as though she were completely ready to have her child. Now, all she had to do was wait a little bit longer.

**a/n: Terribly sorry for all of the author's notes, but it's the best way to communicate with you guys. **

**If you haven't voted in the survey, please take a second and vote! The link is in the previous chapter of this story (if you all have, I know the gender...hehe) **


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Eight and a half months had passed since Abigail found out that she was pregnant. Eight months were filled with hate, despair, and the loss of dance; what was once her greatest and only love in life. In this time, Abigail had finally begun to rebuild herself, to realize that Sammy would always be a part of her life. He wasn't meant to be mourned, but celebrated, and with the baby she could do just that. Eight months found Abigail in a complete tailspin from the person she had been, complete with a new apartment, new best friend, and new purpose in a completely renovated life.

The baby could come at any time.

If asked, Abigail couldn't quite put a mark on the moment she'd decided to change. In part it was because of her surroundings, the sudden loss of continual praise snapping her into throwing away her vanity. It was also subconscious, a sort of thing she hadn't noticed until it was finally and excitedly pointed out to her. The largest manner of this change, however, was the baby.

Often, Abigail wondered how something so tiny, so completely unspoken and unseen, (besides its protruding home, of course) could make such a large impact on somebody. Although often irritable due to the hormones, Abigail was far more pleasant to be around than she had ever been. She was kinder, more patient and the baby hadn't even been born yet. She hadn't wanted a baby to begin with, but now it seemed as though she were holding her breath, unable to sleep like a young child on Christmas eve.

If Abigail was unbearably impatient, then Kat was nearly exasperated from all of the waiting. From the moment they'd moved in together, she'd been completely into the life of a pregnant teen although she was not one herself. If she wasn't up late rifling through baby books or shopping for clothes and toys they didn't need, she was either with Abigail or dancing.

The baby had already made a positive effect on Kat simply by motivating her. Here was something she could work for, a little family she could support if she got into the company. The improvement was completely noteworthy. Kat had gone from simple, _lazy _dancer to someone who seemed to receive a total number of company calls almost rivaling Abigail's, which were too high to compete against.

Now, eight months and nearly three weeks into the most incredible roller coaster ride they'd been on, all they could do was sit and wait. During the day they were separated, Kat dancing and distracting herself from worrying about when the baby would come for a few hours while Abigail did various other things. On some days she shopped, others she spent time with Paige, who'd taken to catching a two-thirty bus to see her on her free afternoons to talk. Some days, she visited Little Bloomers, the school she'd be working at once the baby was born. She spent time with Sheila, the owner, and got to know the kids who would be in her room. By the eight month and three week mark, she knew all of their faces, and had gone out to dinner with most of the staff at the school. They were polite, and didn't care that Abigail would be a young mom. All in all, they cared that she was a good worker.

Night time was the same routine for the two roommates. They circled the block their apartment was on after dinner each night, making multiple rounds on the same route. Even in the rain they continued, simply walking as they shared what went on during their days. This routine had begun the moment Abigail found out that walking and moving around could induce labor.

She'd remarkable been one of the best at dancing, and now she was hell-bent on being the best she could be at inducing her own labor and delivering the baby. She'd had a false wish of the baby being born in December, when the academy was on holiday and Kat would be able to spend more time with them. As December came and went Abigail simply wanted the baby to be our. _Soon, _whenever that was.

"I have something for you, by the way." Kat said as she and Abigail walked their usual route around the block. The cold of the night was bitter, and it seemed to truly bite at them as they walked, trying to find an exposed area to redden.

"What is it…?" She asked, pulling on her coat to cover her stomach a bit more. The biting feeling was getting to her a bit more than usual, it seemed.

"Well, it's smallish."

"Mmhmm…"

"And a bit flat." There was a twinkle in Kat's eyes as she talked, reaching for the object. Abigail's eyes went wide. "What, do you already know what it is?" Kat chuckled until she saw a trace of panic flash through her roommate's eyes.

"Get me to a hospital."

Xxx

Although the route to the hospital had been carefully planned, (and sometimes even rehearsed) nothing ever goes according to plan. Kat had sprinted home to get the car, (a gift courtesy of Natasha) and left so hurriedly that their overnight bags had been left behind. Unsure of what to do and with a now grunting Abigail in the car, Kat figured she'd get someone else to pick them up.

The bags were the least of their worries.

On the way to the hospital, traffic could be heard before Kat got to one of the larger intersections. Cars were beeping in every which direction, people leaning out their windows to curse. The traffic light had been broken, and the rudeness of people was truly showing as they cut others off, simply refusing to wait or let anybody else go. Kat cursed under her breath, but could not turn the car around. In a panic after five minutes of waiting and the beginning of a very frightening contraction, she stuck her own blonde head out the window.

"My friend is having a baby right now so move or I'm running you over!" She shouted, weaving her own car through traffic to pass the scene of disaster.

She was taken to delivery by wheelchair, clutching her stomach and cursing Sammy for leaving her. She cursed the entire way to the room, shaking her head vehemently when they asked her move to the hospital bed. She was in too much pain, she declared, to get up and move to a better position. They had to argue with spitfire Abigail, nearly tearing her from the chair and plopping her down on the table.

After what seemed like the worst contraction yet, Abigail sighed and closed her eyes. She wanted this to be over, wanted a baby in her arms and the pain away from her.

"How much longer?" She asked, her voice tired from physical strain.

"Shouldn't be too long, but if your dilation slows it could take a few hours."

"A few hours?!" Abigail roared. She was tired, cranky, and simply did not want to be in the hospital. The doctor that had come to see her wasn't making the time any better, either. She felt like he was her enemy, that he himself had the power to delay her own labor. "I don't _have _a few hours. I can't take a few hours of this!"

"Maybe you'll be lucky then, who knows?"

She was lucky.

On that same bitter night in late January, after eight months and three weeks of change, Abigail's life finally felt a little brighter.

**and the gender is...**

**hah. sorry, you're not getting that yet:) I may or may not be a bit of a tease:)**


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

The next morning, Abigail woke up to stifled, tiny cries coming from the same room. For a moment she had no recollection of where she was, or where the noise could be coming from. She opened her eyes to the bright light of the sun attempting to seep through the white curtains covering a large window. The light bounced off of the white walls of the room, a few rays coming off of the metal frame of her bed and spreading to hit her eyes. She shut her eyes tight against the offense, but soon realized the reason she had awoken. Abigail shifted in bed, pulling herself up and peering over the side of her bed, into the bassinette next to it.

Charlie was small. He fit into the arms of a person with a great deal of awkward shuffling and maneuvering. In order to get a comfortable hold on him, a person was forced to pull their arms in tight against each other, the space he would fit merely a tiny fraction of the area of their arms.

He had ten fingers and ten toes, fingernails small as the tip of a sharpie marker. The amount of hair he had was the only thing above normal for a newborn, and it was gathered on his head in a neat fashion. It poked its darker brown locks from his blue hospital beanie, the newborn size still leaving much extra room for his head. The matching blanket was fine, wrapped around him to keep him warm against the cooler environment of the hospital.

Abigail lifted him from the bassinette and held his body against hers, soothing him with her voice. Finally, his cries were reduced to a whimper, and then silence as he stared up at his mother with wondering eyes. They were alone, the two of them, for the first time. Kat had gone to get food, exhausted after by-standing such an arduous labor. This left the room in almost complete silence. Abigail was breathing slowly, not wanting to startle her son in any way. He didn't seem to care, though. Charlie matched his mother's stare with large hazel eyes, yawning and moving his tiny hands to stretch. Knowing that people would soon be arriving to see the new family Abigail relaxed, trying to keep this moment of peace alive as long as possible.

Her friends came in a confusing rush of happiness, of balloons and flowers and little stuffed animals. They rushed through the door, each of them wanting to catch the first glimpse of the new baby. When they did, though, they stared. For a while nobody talked, just looking in awe at the little bundle now in Kat's arms. Charlie had Sam's eyes, big and almond shaped above his father's nose. From Abigail he had taken the ruddy cheeks she had been known for as a child, something she'd been hoping he'd have. She watched her friends take turns holding him, complimenting her on how handsome he was and how much he really did look like Sam. She didn't mind it, but it still hurt. Somewhere down the line, it only reminded her that she'd have to explain the story of Sam to Charlie. For now, however, she could push that thought out of her mind.

Looking to the side table of her bed, Abigail noticed something that hadn't been there before. It was a notebook, the composition sort without annoying spiral rings. A yellow post-it note was stuck to it, looking untouched save the contact it would have taken to stick it to the notebook. In plain, girlish writing, her name was written delicately on the note. As she listened to her friends chat and ogle the baby, Abigail picked the book up and, in silence, began to read.

"_Abigail…" _Her heart stuck between jumping and making a quick descent upon reading her own name. The handwriting was unmistakable.

"_What_ _do I think of Abigail…I think she's consumed in wanting to be the best. At times she's arrogant, I'll admit, but there's something about her I just can't shake. I don't know if it's her talent or physical appearance (both way above the standards set by everybody else here), or if it's something else entirely. My new friend, Kat, talks about her a lot because they have history, but I can't help but think that all she's saying is false; that it's the petty jealousy of a teenage girl that drives her mad more than anything else. Abigail seems different…"_

She stopped reading and glanced up to a near-silent room. Kat gave her a slight half-grin while Christian simply shook his head.

"Wasn't me this time…" He nodded toward the door, where a fragile-looking woman in her fourties was standing, wringing her hands nervously. Abigail let a small smile play on her lips, gesturing for the woman to come over. She complied, standing over her bed.

"I know this is one of Sam's more _personal _items, but going through it and seeing your name so many times made me realize you should be the one to keep it. Consider it a shower gift." Abigail could do nothing but nod thankfully, holding the journal to her chest as Charlie's grandmother went to see him for the first time.

The object, with its pages and pages of musings and pointless doodles, did not need to be explained any farther. The others turned their attention back to Charlie, but hers could not escape the journal. She fingered the knot ring on her left hand, mouthing a 'thank you' to Mrs. Lieberman before glancing back down at the book. She didn't want to stop in her reading; she was learning so many things from him, things he had never said to her out loud. With visitors, however, she figured it would be rude to continue reading. Besides, this diary would be like her final private moment with Sammy. She didn't want to consume too much at once.

For the time being Abigail settled into watching her 'extended family' hold her son. She knew that these people would stay with them forever; Kat, Christian, Ben…they were the friends she'd met through Sammy, the ones he'd wanted so badly to remain friends with forever. Looking around the room she knew he had gotten that wish, and it was now being passed to Abigail and Charlie. They would be safe.


	16. Epilogue

Epilogue

_Five o'clock am- wake up to alarm, check on Charlie. Shower, fifteen minutes or less. Do hair, apply makeup. At 5:20 am, check on Charlie again. Put him in bassinette in kitchen, prepare breakfast. Wake Kat at six for class. Eat together, clean, and begin day. Walk with Charlie if weather is permitting. Tummy time, feeding, and then nap. Eat lunch and tidy apartment while Charlie is sleeping. Do extra school work in this time as well. When Charlie wakes (around 4pm), go with what he needs. Dinner at 5:30, walking with Charlie and Kat, and then bed. Talk with Kat about her day, and then head to bed yourself. Lather, rinse, and repeat._

The alarm clock on her bedside table had gone off a while ago and, as was routine, she was running through her daily schedule in her mind. Truly it did not vary much, but that was how she liked it. Now that Charlie was three weeks old he had fallen quite nicely into the system they had planned. He was nbot picky, rarely fussed, and now slept through the nights. Abigail was regaining the spring in her step, black bags nearly completely gone from the space surrounding her eyes.

She was tired and it was Thursday, but somehow simply seeing Charlie pulled her through.

He was tiny, more so than he should have been for three weeks. His infant clothes still hung loose on him, but Abigail didn't mind it. He looked cute, she mused as she finished cutting one last slice of banana to go with their breakfast. She already knew that Charlie wouldn't grow all that large, would probably take after Sammy in height rather than Abigail's large male cousins.

It took her a while to get used to the similarities between Sammy and their son. At times she loved it, reveled in it and observed him as he already exhibited some of Sammy's tiny quirks. In baby pictures the two were nearly identical, Charlie holding Sammy's well-worn stuffed koala and giving the camera a trademark Lieberman grin.

At other times, bad days hit her rapidly and very hard, a sort of sting lasting for hours on end. On some days she cried while looking down at his little face, Charlie glancing back at her confusedly. This only made her even more disheartened, because often she struggled with the choice she had made about keeping him for herself. She hadn't known anything about Charlie before deciding to keep him; was she truly fit to be a parent? On harder days, in rare moments when Charlie was acting up and she didn't know what to do, she'd spend his nap wondering if her really would have been better off with another family. Abigail, stubborn as always, pushed these feelings aside and distracted herself. There was no use dwelling on the past.

She often thought about how different life had the potential to be. She had no doubt in her mind that Sammy would have stayed with her and helped with Charlie the intensity she'd felt with their romance was unlike anything she'd experienced. Abigail had gone into the Academy loving only dance- even her own family was often placed on the back burner. All of those feelings and then she met Sammy. She met Sammy and her life was turned upside-down. Suddenly, she cared for someone slightly more than herself, so much that it tended to scare her and deter her from thinking about it in the beginning. With him, Abigail was a better person. She ate more, was kinder toward people, and tried her hardest not to grin when a fellow student made a mistake. She tried to be good for Sammy, tried to be everything that he deserved. She was all of that to him, though; that and one thousand things more. Not only did they date for the reason of physical attraction, but for some unknown feeling that kept them together.

"_Is she attractive? Definitely." _He wrote in the diary she now kept in her bedside drawer. This entry was written two months after they started to date. "_But that's not why I like her. There's something different about her, something haven't felt before. It's like we could talk forever in that little supply closet. Does it annoy me that we can't be public? Sure, it would annoy anybody. I'm not willing to give her up because of her reservations, though. If she's not ready to be public about things, then so be it. I'll stay forever in this closet until she's ready. I have a feeling that this is something worth fighting for."_

He would have fought for Charlie too, she imagined. He was an extension of them, would have helped them make it along in rough times.

Abigail felt Sammy's presence constantly. She had never been a true believer in the supernatural, but when she wasn't having a good day she knew immediately that he was there with her. She could never tell if it truly was a phantom extension of her first love or merely a part of her conscience that had begun to think like him. Either way, he was always there.

Abigail burnt the pancakes she'd been working on all morning and a slight chill came across her just before she was about to burst with anger. She was calm. While she played with Charlie one morning he ceased to hold eye contact with her, looking behind her and smiling twice as wide as before. He cried and she woke drowsily, wanting to cry along with him as she made her way into the nursery. He was back asleep before she managed to get there. No matter how bad things got, there was always some feeling pulling her back into control. She had no doubt that it was him.

Abigail continued to dance. It sounded strange to say that she did, that the island in their kitchen had turned into a ballet barre. Their relationship was rough, she and dancing, but she knew that she would be safe. Along with all of the horrible things the sport made her feel, it also freed her from herself. In dancing she could forget her troubles, focusing only on the tasks ahead. Now, she had another person to look over; a life she wasn't willing to sacrifice by letting her horrible, self-disciplined self get in the way. While she stretched Charlie watched from his play mat, intrigued by his mother's strange actions. The fourth day her stretching she noticed this and moved from the makeshift barre, passing Charlie and beginning to rifle through the cabinets underneath the television. The DVD she had been looking for was in the back of the cabinet and she popped it into the player, settling with Charlie on the couch so that he could see the television.

She collected her breath before gently pressing play.

Abigail watched her own for skip across a seemingly empty studio, away from the camera. Light classical music began to play, and she was rejoined on the screen by a slim male just a bit taller than herself.

Sammy.

Her breath caught when she saw him, the first time in half a year. Before Abigail had been living through photographs on her nightstand. Now, she was allowed to watch him dance for the first time since the night of her accident.

It was strange, watching their actions as she was. The only other times she'd watched their dancing she'd been judging, scrutinizing technique and figure. Now, she watched for her own enjoyment. It was amazing how a simple change in attitude altered her view on things. For once she was amazed, but not in awe of her own technique (she was never blissful with her own performance-always six steps away from perfection and one from failure). She marveled at Sammy and herself as a team, dancing pas de deux. They had grown so much at this point from their first dance together in first year. This was greater than any solo moment she'd ever had. She was loose, dancing without a care. He was with her, and that was all that had mattered to her in that moment.

From her lap baby Charlie was babbling, his eyes wide as he watched his parents dancing together. Abigail smiled softly at this, pulling her son closer to her. She began to speak, her voice calm as she explained everything to Charlie. She told him the story of Sammy, of who he was and why his own name, Charlie Isadore Lieberman, reflected his. Even though she knew he did not understand, and that he wouldn't be able to for a while, she continued to explain. The past would be an important thing to them, she knew that, but the future did not seem so bad either.

A/N:

**Thank you from the bottom of my heart for all of your reviews and support during this story. I realize this epilogue is long overdue, and there are still some things I'd like to do with the story, but I wanted to get it right and this just...it wouldn't continue. **

**That being said this isn't necessarily the end of the Abigail and Charlie AU I've cooked up. I fancy writing for them so much that there'll probably be many more oneshots and glimpses into their life, so be on the lookout for that:) **

**Thank you again for all of your love, I'm sending it right back to you!**

**Keep calm and fangirl on,**

**Danielle :)**


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